


Different Sight

by wesleysgirl



Series: Unwanted Gifts [3]
Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-05-30
Packaged: 2017-12-13 11:41:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleysgirl/pseuds/wesleysgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Special thanks to Magpie, Wolfling, and Zyre for their help.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Different Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Magpie, Wolfling, and Zyre for their help.

Angel was pacing at LAX.

He'd called once to verify the time of Wesley's flight, and then left for the airport even though the recording  
had told him that there were some delays due to bad weather on the east coast. And of course the flight  
was delayed, so instead of an hour he'd had two and a half to pace and wait and generally unnerve the people  
around him, most of whom were waiting with more patience than *he* could muster.

There were the ones with cups of coffee, the men reading newspapers, the women with paperback novels. There  
were parents chasing after small children and calmly confronting slightly older ones about 'not using their  
listening ears,' whatever the heck *that* meant. Most of the teenagers had earphones and earrings in their ears.

Angel was beginning to wonder if he was in Hell all over again.

When he'd finally noticed that people were avoiding him, giving him a wide berth when they had to walk anywhere  
past him, he'd moved over near the wall to pace.

They'd announced the arrival of Wesley's flight almost ten minutes ago -- he checked his watch again -- and there  
was still no sign of the passengers.

Angel went back to pacing. It wasn't so much that he was worried that Wes wasn't okay -- well, maybe *part* of it  
was that -- as that he wondered if things would have changed. Between them. Things had been bad after Connor...  
and then they'd gradually gotten better again, until, by the time Wesley left, they'd been... well, great. Really great.  
And then all of a sudden Wes was gone, and phone calls and emails just weren't the same.

He was facing the wrong way when he heard the soft rumble of footsteps from behind him, and when he turned  
there were people walking through the gate. His eyes flicked from person to person, looking for the familiar face he  
was so anxious to see. People were carrying bags, being greeted by family members or, in the cases of the men in  
business suits, probably colleagues. They just kept coming -- it must have been a large plane -- but still, there was  
no sign of Wesley.

What if Wes had missed the flight? What if he'd been too sick to come? What if -- and then Angel caught a glimpse  
of Wesley behind half a dozen other people; just the edge of his glasses, really, but it was enough.

The other people filed out, and there was Wes walking toward him, looking... well, probably anyone else would  
just think he'd had a long flight. Angel could tell that Wesley was fighting the kind of sickness that came with utter  
exhaustion, but his head was up and he had his bag gripped in his hand. His eyes were on Angel's. He walked right  
up to him, dropped the bag onto the carpet, and moved into his arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Angel wrapped his arms around Wes and held him awkwardly. Wesley felt cooler than he usually did -- unless  
Angel was just forgetting because it had been so long -- and he leaned into Angel without returning the embrace,  
as if he didn't have the energy to lift his arms.

Angel patted his shoulder gently. "Hey. Wes? You okay?"

"Tired," Wesley said without moving, and his voice was full of gravel.

"Yeah. Come on, let's get out of here."

Wesley pulled back, his eyes burning with a glossy fire as he looked around for his bag.

"I've got it," Angel said, picking it up. "Are there more?"

"No, just the one."

Angel led Wes out to the parking garage, where he spent more than a few moments silently berating himself for  
not paying better attention to where he'd parked. Finally he found the car and tossed Wesley's bag into the back  
seat, got them on the road and headed back toward... the hotel? Wesley's apartment?

Wes was staring straight ahead at the road, eyes open but not really looking like they were seeing anything.

"Do you want to go home? To your place, I mean? Or -- you could come back to the hotel, if you wanted."

Wesley brought a hand up to his face and rubbed just under his eye. "Either's fine, really. I just need to get some  
sleep. It doesn't matter where."

"You want me to choose?"

"Which is closer? Because to be perfectly honest I think I'll be lucky if I can keep my eyes open long enough to get  
anywhere."

"Huh. I guess we're closer to your place."

"That's fine, then." He rubbed under his right eye again, pushing his glasses up slightly so that he could dig his  
fingers into the socket.

"You okay? When I talked to that guy -- Peter? -- he said you passed out after you did the spell."

"Yes -- a shielding spell isn't as powerful as the translocation one I used to... retrieve you, but it was still probably  
a bit beyond my means even on my best day. Assuming it worked, however, it should take care of the majority of  
future problems. The ones caused by the visions, at any rate." Wes sighed.

"Couple of minutes, you'll be home," Angel said needlessly, since Wesley knew where they were. Damn, Wes looked  
like hell. "You feel sick?"

"No, just tired."

"You been getting enough sleep? Eating right?" Missing me?

"I'm fine, Angel, really. All I need is a good night's sleep and I'll be good as new." Wesley grimaced. "Well, you know  
what I mean."

"Yeah." Angel pulled up outside of Wes' place, feeling lucky that there'd been a spot right out front. "Come on."

He carried Wesley's bag in for him, and took the key from his hand to unlock the door rather than watch Wes struggle  
with it himself.

"Go get in bed," he ordered.

When he'd put the bag down and locked the door from the inside, Angel went into the bedroom, where Wes had  
managed to turn on the light, set his glasses on the bedside table, and pull down the blankets before collapsing onto  
the bed.

Angel poked him. "Wes? Be more comfortable if you took off your shoes."

"Right," said Wesley, but he didn't move. Angel unlaced and removed the shoes, debated about the socks and decided  
to leave them on. If Wes had been willing to sleep with his shoes on, he probably wasn't going to complain about  
socks.

Angel moved to the doorway and was just raising his hand to flick the light switch to the off position when Wesley  
spoke.

"Stay," he said, his voice rough.

He hesitated. "You sure?"

"Don't make me ask again."

Angel tried not to act overly eager, but thought the fact that he was in bed with Wesley in less than a minute  
probably gave him away. He pressed up behind Wes, soaking in his warmth under the blankets, wrapping his  
arms around him. God, just the *smell* of him -- even exhausted as he was. It had been too long, *much* too long.  
Heck, a *week* would have been too long, but almost eight had been torture. Not just because he wanted to be  
with Wes -- in bed with him -- but because he'd missed having him around.

He couldn't stop himself from running his hands over Wesley, and he tried not to be offended that Wes was  
dropping off to sleep despite it. His breathing was slowing, becoming even more regular. Angel could feel his own  
tension slowly melting away, warmed by the heat of Wesley's body.

He followed Wes down.

When he woke it was just before dawn, and Wes was a still bundle under the covers. He'd moved away from Angel  
during the night, and now he was curled up, facing toward him, face almost unbearably peaceful. The temptation  
to reach out for Wes was strong, but Angel didn't want to wake him so he just stayed where he was and watched.

The time passed slowly, each breath taken note of, each sigh or small movement or twitch of facial muscle. Angel  
knew long before Wes did that he was waking up -- the way the rhythm of his breathing changed, and how his heart  
speeded up just a little bit. The way his body temperature rose nearly a full degree over the course of ten minutes or  
so.

Wesley opened his eyes blearily, and then noticed Angel staring at him. "Was I snoring?"

Angel couldn't help but smile at that. "No."

"Kicking you?" Wesley's voice sounded like he'd been eating ground glass -- like the inside of his throat had been  
cut up into little pieces.

"No. Just like watching you."

"Good Lord," Wesley groaned. "When did you get so soft?"

Angel reached over and pulled Wes to him, making sure that the length of their bodies touched so there would be  
no question of his intended answer.

"Oh, I see. Not all of you, then." Wesley sounded like hell, but it was a better one than Angel could remember.

He wanted it to be a gentle homecoming, but it turned out they were both too desperate for gentleness. Layers  
of want created over the weeks of separation were slowly peeled off, one by one, and then Angel was sinking into  
Wesley like he was the one coming home. It would have been perfect but for the fact that he wanted so desperately  
to sink his fangs as well as his cock into that body; Wesley's blood called to him like a siren. And yet it was a relief  
that it wasn't perfect. He didn't think he could take perfect -- he might not survive perfect. This was enough.

Finally, Wesley sighed and shifted underneath him, and Angel reluctantly withdrew from the warm human body and  
lay down next to him again, cradling Wes in his arms. "Missed you," he admitted quietly.

Wesley froze for a second, and then relaxed again. "I missed you, as well. I didn't want to go, you know that."

"I know." Angel traced a finger over Wesley's skin, not even realizing that he was following a vein until he'd  
blinked. "So, what now?"

"I believe a shower might be in order," Wesley said dryly, stretching. "And then food? I'd prefer to keep busy  
while I wait for the next vision - perhaps there's some work at the office. How have things been?"

 

* * * * *

 

The day happened to be overcast, with the predicted weather promising a brief shower within the next hour or  
two, so Angel decided to chance it and take Wes out to the local diner for breakfast. Wes tucked into the meal like  
he hadn't seen food for weeks - and with the way his ribs had been showing, Angel thought it was possible he  
hadn't. He'd probably lost at least ten pounds in the time he'd been gone. Angel decided he was going to feed  
Wes up, get some meat back on his bones. He was mesmerized watching Wesley's mouth as he chewed.

Suddenly Wesley was staring at him, a look of concern on his face. "Either I've become hopelessly boring, or  
something's wrong. You haven't heard a word I've said in the last five minutes."

"Sure I have," Angel protested.

"What was I saying, then?"

Angel decided to take a chance. "Um... something about demons?"

"Good guess." Wesley smiled. "But wrong."

"Sorry," Angel said, watching as Wesley's fork picked up another morsel of egg and carried it to his lips. "I just  
missed you so damned much, Wes. I didn't know how much I was going to, until you left."

Wesley's expression softened. "And I thought I knew exactly how much I was going to miss you, but I was wrong.  
It was much worse."

Mindful of the fact that they were in a public place, but unable to stop himself, Angel reached out and brushed  
his hand over Wes', just a quick touch. "You're back now."

"That's true." Wesley's blue eyes looked into his for a long moment. "So now the question remains -- what did you  
do while I was gone? Other than fail to answer your phone and spend what was no doubt far too much time learning  
to utilize email?"

"I answered the phone!" Angel said defensively. "You know, when I remembered to leave it on." He shrugged  
and watched as Wes went back to eating. "Not much. I spent some time looking through that file you left me."

Wesley froze for just an instant, and then continued. "About... Connor," he said hesitantly.

"It's okay to say his name, Wes. He's alive - at least, I hope he is - and that's what matters. I mean, sure I feel  
cheated out of watching him grow up. But we can't let what happened turn into some... chasm between us. I don't  
want that."

"Nor do I." Wesley was quiet, moving the food around the plate with his fork like he'd suddenly lost his  
appetite. "And we've been over this before, I suppose... maybe I had a bit too much time to think, while we  
were apart. You know I'm very sorry about what happened. All of it."

Angel snorted. "'Course I do. Not the point. The point is, I don't want you apologizing for it every time his name's  
mentioned." He looked at Wes thoughtfully. "Connor," he said.

Wesley flinched, and then looked up, meeting his eyes. "So now I'm not to apologize, is that it?"

"Always knew you were a fast learner."

"Quite." Wes pushed his plate away. "I'm done." He glanced up at Angel as if to forestall any argument. "Because  
I'm *full,*" he said.

"Okay." Mollified, Angel threw some money down onto the table and followed Wes out into the rain that had just  
started to fall. The damned roof of the car was leaking again, but luckily only into the back seat where they didn't  
need to be. He tried not to think about the things he might like to do to Wes in that back seat, if the time was right  
and the seat wasn't covered with water. Heck, even if the seat *was* covered with water... he wrenched his brain  
back to the present. "You sure you want to go to the office?" he asked. "Maybe you ought to spend a couple of days  
at home. You know, rest up."

"I'd prefer to keep busy," Wesley said. "Otherwise I'm afraid I'll just be sitting around, wondering when the next  
vision is going to hit and whether the spell will have made any difference."

"Okay, I get that. Just... take it easy, okay? Kind of ease into it. You've been through a lot, and none of us want to  
be scraping you up off the floor if you overdo it."

Wesley smirked at him. Man, he'd even missed the smirks. How smitten was he? "No, I'm not particularly keen  
on that idea myself. But thank you for considering my welfare."

"Oh, I'm all about considering your... welfare," Angel drawled, and grinned but didn't look away from the road  
when he heard Wesley's heartbeat speed up.

The reunion at the office was heartwarming, even for someone with a cold dead heart. Gunn and Fred were  
delighted to see Wesley, and there was a great deal of hugging and back-patting and even a kiss on the cheek  
that had Wesley blushing. Angel could tell that Wes was a little bit uncomfortable to be back, despite how pleased  
he was at the welcome.

After a good hour of chatting and coffee and Fred going out for *more* coffee because she decided Wesley deserved  
some from the actual coffee shop instead of their less-than-perfect, ran-out-of-new-filters coffee, things settled  
down. Gunn and Fred went out to drop off a bill, and Wesley sat behind his desk and read over the files that had piled  
up while he'd been gone.

Angel looked for stuff to do, and eventually ended up leaning against a wall in an attempt at casualness, pretending  
to read a book while actually watching Wesley over the top edge.

"You're very bad at that, you know," Wesley said suddenly.

Angel twitched. "Um... what?"

"Pretending to read. You could at least make an effort to turn a page every once in a while. You've been staring  
at that one for more than fifteen minutes. I find it difficult to believe that anyone reads that slowly, even you." Wes  
looked at him with a small grin.

"Hey, maybe I was... trying to... translate..." He sighed. "Okay, you got me." He walked over and stood behind Wes's  
chair, dropping the book on the desk on his way, and leaned over to see what Wesley had been reading. It was really  
just an excuse to be able to smell him, to be close to him, but he hoped it might seem genuine. "Whatcha reading?"

"You mean what am I *actually* reading, as opposed to pretending to read?" Wes glanced up at him and then  
gestured at the paper in his hand. "Just paperwork. If you're feeling particularly mentally taxed I could read it aloud  
to you...?"

This playfulness was what had been missing even before Wesley had left, and Angel was pretty sure their forced  
separation was worth it if it meant the light-heartedness was back now. "Nah," he said. "I can always get Fred to  
read it to me later if I need to. She's cooperative that way." He leaned in closer like he was trying to puzzle the  
words out.

"Was there something you wanted?" Wesley asked after a minute, turning sideways in his chair so that he could  
look at Angel.

*You.* Angel shook his head, and then decided to throw caution to the wind and leaned in closer still, inhaling the  
scent of Wes's hair and then nuzzling it. "You," he said. "I want you. Now, tomorrow... pretty much all the time." He  
felt a shiver go through Wes and grinned.

"We're in the office," Wesley pointed out.

"There, see? I knew you were a smart guy."

"Gunn and Fred could come back at any time." The protest sounded weaker now.

"Seems to me like we've had this conversation before. Hotel? Lots of perfectly good rooms upstairs, not to mention  
my own. Locking doors and everything."

"We should be working."

Angel grunted in frustration. "Actually, *you* should be resting, which is also a conversation we've had before."

"And you believe that doing what you're suggesting will be restful?" A little smile was playing around the corners  
of Wesley's lips now.

"Well, *afterwards* you might be interested in resting." For the first time since they'd come into the office, Angel  
let himself touch Wes -- just a hand on his shoulder, fingers gently squeezing the tense muscle there. He turned  
Wes around far enough to allow himself access to his mouth, and kissed him.

The taste was like nothing else he'd ever known - rich like fine wine, dark like freshly tilled earth. Full -- layers  
upon layers of flavor that his vampire senses could dissect for hours without identifying each individual one. He  
wanted to spend hours kissing Wesley.

He wanted to spend years doing it.

By the time he pulled back, Wes was panting lightly, his eyes dilated just the tiniest bit. Wesley paused, and then  
nodded. "All right. Upstairs."

 

* * * * *

 

Angel followed Wes up, noting the careful way that Wes moved and reminding himself to be gentle, no matter how  
much he wanted him. He let his eyes linger on Wesley's ass as he walked up the staircase.

He locked the door carefully behind them, making sure Wes saw him do it, and then moved them into the bedroom.

Wesley sat on the edge of the bed and looked up at him uncertainly, his discomfort plain on his face. "I don't -- "

"Shh," said Angel, and sat down next to him and kissed him. He decided he liked the way Wes tasted like this,  
too -- uncertain, uncomfortable, waiting to see what happened next. Angel wanted to show him. "Let me."

Wesley nodded, and after another few seconds one of his hands stole up to rest on Angel's chest, right over his  
heart. They kissed slowly, for a long time, Wes' tongue slipping into his mouth tentatively at first, and then with  
more surety.

"That's right," Angel said encouragingly, pulling back far enough to stroke a hand across Wesley's cheek. "We can  
do anything you want."

"Anything?" Wesley asked, and there was a gleam in his eye that Angel thought he liked the look of.

"Anything."

Wesley stood up, hauling Angel to his feet as well, and then Angel felt Wes' hands at his waistband, undoing his  
pants and shoving them down toward the floor. Wesley glanced at him, as if looking for permission, and then  
sank to his knees, one hand running down the outside of Angel's thigh.

Angel stood rock-still as Wesley's hands explored him, moving over his thighs, up to caress his ass with a firm  
squeeze, and then around and up the insides of his thighs, very slowly. He didn't tremble as Wes' knuckles brushed  
against his balls. He didn't groan softly as Wes' fingertips ghosted over the head of his cock and then one fingertip  
pressed, more firmly, into the leaking hole at the tip.

And he most definitely *didn't* cry out as Wesley took him into his hot, wet, human mouth, where Angel thought he  
could almost feel the blood pulsing beneath the skin. Wesley's lips slid down his length until the head of his cock  
was practically lodged in Wes' throat, and then he did tremble, just a little bit. It had been so long... He exerted  
iron control and stayed still, letting Wes do whatever he wanted and trying not to do anything that would pressure  
him.

Wes' tongue was like magic, dancing around, and the heat and wet were just about making Angel's eyes roll back  
into his head. He felt a surge and quickly took a step backward, away from Wesley.

Wesley looked up, confusion written all over him. "Don't you want...?"

"Oh, I *want,*" Angel answered, pulling Wes to his feet and kissing him. "There are a lot of things I want." He let his  
hand run down Wesley's front and gave his cock a squeeze through his slacks, and grinned as Wesley groaned in  
response. "Looks like I'm not the only one who wants."

"One would think that would have been perfectly clear after this morning," Wesley said, pressing forward into his  
hand.

Damned if the way Wes talked, even when he was all worked up, didn't make Angel even harder. "Turn around," he  
ordered in a low voice, and grinned again when Wesley obeyed him without question. His fingers unfastened Wes'  
slacks and then slid inside to grasp his hot cock. Nuzzling Wesley's neck, Angel shoved the pants down and began  
a casual, relaxed stroking; with his eyes closed, he could almost imagine that it was his own dick in his hand.

Wes groaned softly and pushed back against him. "Angel..."

"You need this, Wes?"

Wesley trembled. "I..."

Angel's hand stopped its movement. "Answer me. You need this? You want me to make you come?"

"*God,* yes."

"You want me to fuck you?"

"*Please.*"

That was more than enough for Angel. He would have liked to bend Wes over the bed and take him that way, but he  
was mindful of everything Wes had been through in the past weeks and decided that something less physically  
stressful was called for. Stripping both of them of their clothes as efficiently as possible -- which in his case  
included popping two button off his shirt -- he pushed Wesley down onto the bed and stretched out next to him.

"You want me to fuck you?" he asked again, one hand reaching out to circle Wes' cock teasingly.

"Do you want an engraved invitation?"

Angel chuckled. "Nah, not necessary. Just like to hear you say it."

Propping himself up on one elbow, Wesley grinned. "You want to hear me beg, is that it?"

"Can't say that'd be a big turn-off." He jacked Wes' cock lazily, gently, and noted the sudden intake of breath that  
was Wesley's response.

"I want you," Wes said, closing his eyes for a brief instant as Angel's thumb flicked over the head of his cock, "to  
fuck me."

"Well now, why didn't you say so?" Angel lunged up over him, pushing him down into the mattress and covering  
him with his body. The feel of Wes' hand suddenly brushing over his dick just made him all the crazier. "Want you.  
Didn't realize how much until you left."

"Really," Wesley said dryly, while Angel slicked himself with some lube he'd been keeping under his pillow waiting  
for just this kind of opportunity. "So I shouldn't ask what," he gasped as Angel slid home slowly, and then  
continued, "all that sex was about *before* I left, then?"

Angel pulled most of the way back out and thrust forward again powerfully. "This isn't just about sex," he grunted,  
and swiped his tongue roughly over the scar on Wesley's throat. He would have had to have been unconscious to  
miss the reaction that earned him -- Wes shuddered beneath him and stiffened up. The air in the room spiked with  
the unmistakable scent of fear and Angel froze instantly. "Wes?"

He could feel Wesley make an effort to relax. "I'm all right."

"Are you?" Maybe this was too much, too soon -- he started to withdraw but Wes grabbed onto him and held him  
where he was.

"I'm all right," Wes repeated. "You... surprised me. When you said it wasn't just about sex, and..."

Angel was utterly confused. "What?"

"I thought you were going to... which would be all right, were it necessary. Or were I prepared. You caught me off  
guard."

"You thought I was going to..." Light dawned slowly. "Wesley. I wouldn't do that without your permission. Heck, I  
might not even do it *then.*"

"All right," Wes said, quietly, calmly.

They were both still for a long minute, and then Wesley tilted his hips up against Angel, an invitation, and Angel  
began to move again. Slowly, easily, not wanting to overwhelm this new Wes who had come back to him seemingly  
more nervous and more confident at the same time, and if that made any sense Angel didn't want to think about it  
because Wesley felt so amazing that he was already lost. In that moment, all he could think about was Wes; Wes  
tight and hot around his cock, Wes' strong hands gripping his shoulders.

Wesley's gasps and his quickening heartbeat were like music to Angel's ears. He shifted his weight to one elbow  
and kissed Wes fiercely. Wes tasted like coffee and, faintly, like something sweet he'd eaten maybe as long ago as  
the night before.

"Missed ya," Angel said again, and thrust in deeper.

Wes gasped, and raised his hips to meet the next thrust. "Angel... please..."

"Please what?" He nipped gently at Wes' lips and tongue-fucked his mouth in time with his thrusts.

"Please..." Wesley was practically incoherent -- eyes closed, head rolled to one side.

Not quite ready for things to be over so soon, Angel straightened his arm to create more distance between their  
bodies and take away the friction that Wes' cock was receiving. Wesley groaned a wordless objection and  
pushed himself upward, seeking the contact, but Angel just put a hand on his hip and flattened him back to the  
mattress.

"Ah ah ah," he said. "You do it."

Wesley opened his eyes and looked at Angel. "What?"

"You do it. Touch yourself. I wanna watch."

Angel could sense the faint blush in Wes' cheeks as he realized what he was being told to do.

"Do it," Angel repeated. "If you want me to keep fucking you. Do it."

Wesley reached down and took his own cock in hand. He stroked once and his eyelids fluttered closed just the  
tiniest bit. A small sound escaped his lips. In reward for his good behavior, Angel pulled out and thrust forward  
again, angling to hit just the right spot.

Wes rewarded him in turn with a loud groan. "Angel! God... don't stop."

"Not gonna stop," Angel answered, thrusting again. "Not any time soon." He moved back and then forward,  
plunging into Wes with a force that made him just a little bit weak in the knees. Good thing fucking didn't require  
standing up.

Wesley was lifting his hips to meet Angel's thrusts, moaning and holding his cock in his hand but obviously past  
the point of being able to do anything else. His head was thrown back, exposing his throat, and Angel had to exert  
some control to keep himself from licking and sucking and biting at the skin there again.

"Wes. Wesley," he said, just to say it, just to taste the name on his tongue and feel the soft hush of it through his  
vocal cords.

Wes moved to meet him again, and answered him in kind. "Angel." His voice had that raspy quality to it again, the  
one that never quite went away entirely -- although Angel suspected he might be the only one who was aware of it  
most of the time -- and seemed to get worse under certain conditions.

He pushed himself deeper and brought his hand down to join Wes', their fingers entwining around Wesley's cock  
to bring him off together. Stroking faster, movements echoing those of his hips while his tongue owned Wesley's  
mouth.

"Angel... I - " And then Wes' entire body locked up beneath his as Wes came, shooting onto his own stomach with  
a strangled cry, liquid heat spilling over Angel's fingers.

Angel growled in delight and thrust forward harder, faster, taking his own pleasure now that Wesley's was  
spent. It wasn't a lot longer before he came too, supporting his weight on his arms so that Wes wouldn't have  
to bear it. He shuddered and groaned a low sound that felt like it came from somewhere deep as the pleasure  
pulsed through him, closer to a heartbeat than anything else he could experience.

In the end, he sank down onto Wesley, breathing in his scent while they both trembled with after-shocks.

Angel went to move, and Wes' arms tightened around him.

"Don't," Wesley said quietly, his voice rough.

Angel rolled the both of them to one side instead, nuzzling Wes' hair and holding him carefully. He wanted to  
protect Wes, to keep him safe from... whatever. Still inside him, he thrust again, gently, just because he could,  
and smiled when Wes' response was to shift to meet him.

Wesley ran a warm hand down across Angel's chest and circled his nipple with one fingertip. Angel grabbed the  
hand and bit the fingertip with a playful growl. "I'm thinking unless you want to start another round you might  
be better off not doing stuff like that."

"Why wouldn't I want to start another round?"

Angel felt his brow crease with confusion. "Um... because you're jet-lagged and coming down off some  
big spellcasting? And because we don't know when you're gonna get another vision?"

Wes nodded and rested his head on Angel's arm. The weight felt comforting. "Valid points, all."

"Maybe you should try to get some sleep," Angel suggested, as he reluctantly withdrew from Wes' body.

What he hadn't totally counted on was the way Wesley moved back into his embrace. The way Wes sighed and  
relaxed, and acted like he was perfectly happy where he was. Content. "I'm not tired," Wesley said, and then  
almost immediately corrected himself. "I'm not *sleepy.* Tell me what you've been up to?"

Angel closed his eyes for a few seconds, just breathing in Wes' scent along with the tang that lingered in the  
air from their combined sexual release. "You know, the usual. Dealing with cases, your visions..."

"You mentioned that file I'd left. I wondered if... anything had come of it?"

He sighed. "Nah. Not yet."

"I'm sorry. I'd hoped..." Wesley trailed off.

"Haven't given up. Won't. Some things take time - looks like this is gonna be one of them."

"I suppose a little bit more time now is hardly something to be concerned about," Wesley agreed, with a hint of  
bitterness in his voice that Angel didn't like the sound of.

He propped himself up onto his elbow and looked down at Wes. "Hey. Let it go, would ya?"

"It's hardly as simple as that, Angel."

"Sure it is. Just stop thinking about it."

"And you've found that works for you, have you?" Wesley raised his eyebrows.

Angel grinned slightly. "We're not talking about me. Although speaking of me..." He rolled away and got up, moving  
into the kitchen area of the suite and taking a bag of blood from the refrigerator. He nicked it open, poured the  
blood into a mug and put it in the microwave to heat.

He looked back; Wesley had settled onto his stomach and was watching him.

"You've been taking care of yourself, I hope?" Wes asked.

"Again, shouldn't I be the one asking *you* that question? You're the one who looks like he's lost a bunch of weight."

Wes nodded and continued to watch him as he took the mug from the microwave and drank down the blood.  
Hunger slightly appeased, Angel went back toward the bed, hesitated, and then picked up his pants and put  
them on.

"I suppose we *should* get dressed," Wesley acknowledged, and started to get up. Angel bent quickly to get Wes'  
clothes for him, and handed them over. This earned him a flash of a smile and a quiet, "Thank you."

"Welcome." He went over to his closet for a new shirt to replace the missing-buttons one and drew it on. "You  
hungry? Want me to call and order you something from the diner?"

Before Wesley could answer there was a knock on the door and Angel heard Fred saying "Angel? It's me, Fred."

He glanced at Wes, who quickly finished putting his clothes on and made an attempt to straighten the bed  
while Angel went to the door and quietly unlocked it. Doing his best to act casual, he opened the door.

"Hi," Fred said, giving a little wave. "Sorry to, um... we stopped and got some lunch on the way back, but Wesley  
wasn't downstairs, and I thought maybe you'd know where he went? We thought..." She stopped as Wesley came  
up behind Angel. "Oh. Hi, Wesley. We brought you back some food."

Wesley moved around him and closer to Fred, but as he did his hand slid across Angel's lower back in a way that  
wouldn't be visible to her. "Thank you, that was thoughtful."

"So, if you wanted to..." Fred hesitated. "Unless... am I interrupting something? Were you two having a private  
talk? I'm sorry. I should probably go..."

"Fred," Wesley said gently, stopping the flow of words before she could get any farther. "It's all right. We were  
just..." He glanced at Angel as if for help.

"We... I, um..." Angel glanced down at his mostly-buttoned shirt and had an idea. "My other shirt. Lost a button.  
So I had to come up here to get a new one."

"We were in the middle of a conversation, so I walked upstairs with him," Wesley continued smoothly, picking  
up the ball that Angel thought he had fumbled pitifully.

"Well good," Fred said, not seeming to have noticed that Angel was acting odd. On the other hand, maybe he  
was *always* odd. "So do y'all want to come back downstairs, then?"

"Of course," said Wes.

They went along the hallway and then down the staircase, Angel buttoning his shirt as they walked.

Gunn was at the counter, having already dug some of the food out of the bags. "Hey," he said as they  
arrived. "We got all your favorites, man. Hope you're hungry."

Bustling over to join him, Fred starting unpacking more food, pushing it in Wesley's direction. "A chicken  
sandwich from Izzy's, Greek salad from the diner, and those ginger cookies from the bakery that you used to  
like so much, and..." She gave Wesley a wide-eyed glance of apology. "And you aren't going to be able to eat  
all of this, are you? I guess I got carried away."

Gunn reached out a hand and patted her back gently. "Everyone's gotta have an obsession. Yours just happens  
to be food, is all."

She smiled. "Right. Well, we can save whatever you don't eat."

Wesley reached out and took the styrofoam container with the sandwich in it. "Thank you," he said again, and  
Angel didn't fail to notice the warmth that had crept into his voice.

"No problem," Gunn said. "You look like you could use a good meal."

Angel nodded. "See, that's what I was telling him."

"Well, you're home now," Fred said, smiling shyly. "We'll all just have to take better care of you."

Wes had a mouthful of sandwich and couldn't respond.

"So now we wait, is that it?" Gunn asked. "For the next vision? See what happens?"

Wesley chewed and swallowed. "Essentially, yes. I'm hopeful that the spell will have resulted in an  
improvement, but it's difficult to predict."

His own mouth half full of food, Gunn gestured with one hand. "That sucks. Spells should come with some  
kinda guarantee."

"Wouldn't that be nice," Wes said dryly.

Angel wondered if he was thinking about the earlier spell that had gone bad. "There aren't any guarantees, not  
in... not in what we do."

"That's true," said Fred. "You never know what's going to happen. You just have to take each day as it comes  
and be grateful no one's calling you a cow." She nodded seriously and took an enormous bite of her sandwich.

Wes looked startled at her pronouncement, but Gunn just gazed at her fondly. "That's my girl. Logic and an  
appetite too."

Angel suppressed a chuckle at Wes' expression, and moved over to lean against the counter. The other three  
continued to talk, light banter that he let wash over him gently. It was peaceful. He watched Wes's mouth as he  
talked, and as he ate, and stopped listening to the words in favor of the sounds.

Suddenly, he realized that someone had been repeating his name. "What?"

"I was saying, maybe you should take Wesley home early. He looks tired," Fred said.

"And I was saying," Wesley said, with something resembling patience-worn-thin, "that I'm fine, and perfectly  
capable of remaining at work until the end of the day."

But Fred was right, Wes *did* look tired, and the last thing Angel wanted was for him to totally exhaust himself.  
Plus, he thought guiltily, at least some of the exhaustion was his fault. You'd think at two hundred and forty-plus  
years, he'd have enough self control to leave the poor guy alone when he was already worn out. "Yeah, you're  
right," he said shortly, answering Fred. He glanced outside. It was still overcast -- he could chance it. "Come  
on, Wes, grab your coat and whatever else you need and I'll give you a lift."

"Really, Angel, I'm fine," Wesley said.

"Okay then, let's make sure you stay that way. Go home, catch up on your sleep. Come in for a full day tomorrow  
if you want." Angel was determined that he was going to have his way on this one.

Wesley looked at him for a long moment, and then nodded. "All right. Just let me get my things then." He  
disappeared around the corner into the office.

"He's not mad?" Fred asked. "I mean, he *does* look tired. I just thought maybe it would be better -- I  
mean, he just got back, and..."

"If he's mad, it's at me," Angel reassured her. "Don't worry. I'll take care of it."

Gunn crossed his arms and nodded. "Do that."

"I will. I just said I -- " Angel broke off as Wes came back around the corner with his jacket thrown over his arm  
and a file folder in the same hand.

"So, we'll see you in the morning?" Fred said, a little nervously.

Wesley nodded. "Yes, of course. And thank you again for the lunch."

Gunn clapped him on the back. "No problem, man. See ya tomorrow."

"You're mad at me," Angel observed as he pulled the car away from the curb.

Wes sighed very quietly, the sound almost inaudible over the noise of the city as they drove. "No, I'm not.  
You were right -- I *am* tired and it's probably for the best that I go home and try to get some rest. Although  
I would prefer it in the future if you'd ask rather than order."

"You don't like me ordering you around?" Angel tried for levity.

"Not particularly, no. Not under these circumstance, at any rate."

Angel looked at him sideways. "But there are some circumstances. When you wouldn't mind me ordering you  
around."

"Some," Wesley confirmed. "However, in the office is *not* one of them."

"Okay. I'll try to remember." Chastened, Angel reached over and patted Wes's knee gently. "Sorry."

"It's all right."

"I just don't want you to make yourself sick."

"Angel, it's all *right.*" Wesley smiled at him. "Honestly."

When they arrived outside of Wes's apartment, Angel moved to shut off the car, but Wesley put a hand over  
his and stopped him.

"I'll be fine," he said. "I'm perfectly capable of spending a night on my own."

"Oh. Right. Sure, of course you will. I didn't -- "

"Angel. I'm not rejecting you, I'd just like a little time to myself. To think, to settle back in, to get some sleep  
without the... rather impressive distraction that is you hanging about, tempting me to further physical  
demonstrations of my affections."

Angel smiled. "Affections?"

"Well, I'm not sleeping with you because I *dislike* you," Wesley pointed out.

This was the issue Angel had been skirting around, probably clumsily, but he didn't think this was the time to  
try to bring it up again. Instead he reached out and brushed the backs of his fingers across Wesley's cheek.  
"Yeah," he said softly. "So I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Of course you will. I'll be in in the morning."

Wes's eyes were bright with... well, maybe it was exhaustion, but Angel preferred to think it might be  
something else. That affection, maybe. He leaned over quickly and kissed Wes, then pulled back. "Okay.  
Get some rest. Call me if you need anything."

"I will. Thank you." Wesley opened up the door and walked purposefully over to the building. In the doorway,  
he paused and looked back.

Angel smiled, and went back to the hotel.

 

* * * * *

 

He'd been puttering around for almost an hour -- he couldn't settle. Which was unusual for him -- normally, he  
could sit in one space and think, without moving, for long periods of time. Brooding, honestly. The hotel seemed  
too quiet, even though it wasn't any quieter than it had been for months, at night. Fred slept at Gunn's now,  
although every once in a while they'd both stay at the hotel, if the mood struck them. Now, knowing that Wes was  
back and *could* have been here, but wasn't... the place felt empty.

Angel got up again and went to the fridge, opened it up. Looked inside. Nope, still just blood in there. Not that  
he'd have wanted anything else. Not that there had *been* anything else in there since Connor's formula,  
which had stunk everything up to high heaven, not that he'd dare complain about that now.

The phone rang and he jumped for it eagerly.

"Hello?"

"Angel, it's me." Wes.

His immediate reaction was to ask, "Something wrong?"

"No, everything's fine. I just thought I'd check in before I went to bed, see how everything was on your end."

Angel leaned against the table. "Everything's good here. Quiet."

"Yes, I'd imagine so. Fred doesn't sleep there anymore, does she."

"Not often." With great restraint he managed not to ask if there had been any visions. Wes would have told him  
if there had been.

"What have you been doing?"

"Oh... you know, I'm busy. Keeping busy. Doing lots of... stuff."

"You're sitting around like a useless prat, aren't you."

Angel chuckled. "Pretty much."

"I should have..." Wes hesitated.

"What?"

"I should have had you stay," Wesley admitted quietly.

Warmed, Angel had to pause for a few seconds before he could answer. "I could come over now?"

Wes sighed. "No, it's late. And I really should get some sleep. I'm probably not up for anything... strenuous. But I  
do miss you."

"Yeah. I miss you, too."

A long pause. "Angel? What are we doing?"

He tried to wrap his brain around that one. "Um... huh?"

"You and I. What are we doing?"

"Talking on the phone?" Angel offered finally.

Wesley made a little sound of exasperation. "I know *that.* I meant... the two of us, together. What is this?"

*Oh.* Now he understood the question. But that didn't make him want to answer it. Maybe he didn't *have*  
the answer. He decided to go with what he'd said before. "It's not just about sex, Wesley."

"You said that earlier. Would you be willing to tell me what it *is* about?"

Angel sighed. "I... care about you."

He could practically hear Wesley nodding through the phone line. "All right. I care about you, as well."

"So that's not what you were asking?"

"I suppose I'm trying to ask where this is going. Partially because I think that sooner or later Fred and Gunn  
will figure out that something's going on, and I'd prefer to have the opportunity to inform them before that  
happens."

That hadn't even occured to him, but it made sense. "Yeah. You're right. We'll have to tell them."

"What, exactly?"

Angel scratched his head. "Huh?"

"What are we going to tell them, exactly?" Wes repeated patiently.

"Oh, right. That we're..." He ran out of words.

"And we finally come down to the heart of the matter. Do we tell them that we're friends who happen to be  
having sex? Because I'm not completely comfortable couching it in those terms."

Angel suppressed a wicked urge to say that he'd like to couch Wes anytime, and struggled back to the conversation  
they were actually having. "Yeah. I mean, no, that's probably not the way to tell them."

Wes sighed. "Well. Perhaps we can think it over and try to come to some decision in the next day or two."

"Right. Good idea." He'd obviously lost all control, so the best thing to do was just continue on like everything  
was fine. "Yeah."

"I thought I was the one who was uncomfortable with this sort of conversation," Wesley said lightly.

The tone -- heck, just the sound of Wes' voice -- made Angel want to touch him. "Sure I can't come over?"

"Quite sure. I'm going to bed."

"If I was there, I could go to bed *with* you," Angel pointed out.

"True, but as I said before, that wouldn't result in my getting any actual rest. And since *you* were the one insisting  
that I come home early so that I *could* rest, you'd be very lax in your duty if you came over and kept me up."

"You saying there isn't even some little part of you that would like me to come over there? Or maybe some...  
*not* so little part?"

He could hear Wes's intake of breath, but this time it was followed by a light chuckle. "I'm not saying that, no."

"Where are ya?"

"In bed."

"You dressed?"

"No, actually, as a matter of fact I'm not. I was planning on going to sleep as soon as we hung up the phone."

Angel smiled slowly, picturing Wes laid out in bed, naked. "You can still do that," he said. "Once I'm finished  
with you."

"Really. And what did you have in mind?"

Oh, yeah, this was gonna be fun. He moved over to his own bed and lay back, crossing his feet at the ankles, one  
arm behind his head. "I want you to touch yourself."

"You really do have a one-track mind, don't you."

"What can I say? I know what I like. And I'd like to be there doing the touching, myself, but since you say no,  
I'll just have to do it this way." Angel sighed dramatically.

"Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint you," Wesley said.

"I'm a lot more fun when I'm not disappointed," Angel agreed. "You going to do what I tell you? Or is this another  
one of those situations where you don't like me ordering you around?"

He could almost see Wes's smile. "I suppose I can make an exception under these circumstances. Do I get  
more specific instructions, or am I free to interpret as I see fit?"

"Lie on your back, with your legs spread," Angel said, keeping his voice low. "Bend one knee and run your hand  
up the inside of your thigh. Slow."

All was quiet on the other end of the line.

"You doing it?"

"Yes." Wesley sounded calmer than he would have liked, but he knew how to fix that.

"Touch your balls but not your cock. Real gentle for now."

"What about later?"

"You let me worry about later. And remember, gentle." Angel's hand stole to the front of his own pants, rubbing  
himself through the soft black silk just as gently as he was ordering Wes to do. "How's it feel?"

"Frustrating," Wes admitted after a few seconds.

He grinned. "Good. Don't get yourself off. *Gentle.* What's your other hand feel like doing?" Angel heard a quick  
intake of breath and could see, plain as day in his mind's eye, Wes' other hand on his cock. "*Don't* touch your cock."

Wes made an effort to calm himself. "Sorry. You asked what my other hand wanted to do and I think it  
considered that an invitation."

"Well, tell your hand it'll know an invitation when it hears one. Until then, only do what I say. You got it?"

"I thought you just finished telling me *not* to have it," Wesley said.

"You want me to tell you that this is about more than sex, Wes?" he asked, changing tacks abruptly and pleased  
by the answering change he heard in Wes' breathing.

"Yes."

"This is about more... than just sex," Angel said. "This is about me caring about you. Feeling like something's  
missing when you aren't around."

No response from Wesley.

Angel took that as an permission to continue. "I think about touching you all the time."

"That would fall under the 'this is about sex' category again," Wesley said.

"Okay -- I also like to think about you touching yourself." He hoped Wes was still doing it.

"And that wouldn't fall under the sex category how, exactly?"

"You touching yourself isn't sex," Angel explained. "It's masturbation. Totally different."

"Really."

"Yeah. You don't count the first time you ever jerked off as the first time you had sex, do you?"

"I suppose you've got a point there." Wes sounded amused.

"Enough talking," Angel said, letting a little bit of a growl slip into his voice. "And close your eyes." He waited  
another second or two and then ordered, "Now I want you to touch your cock... again, gentle."

"I can... do that," Wesley said, and there was only the tiniest hitch to his voice, but it made Angel smile.

He slid his own hand down into his pants, grabbing onto his own cock, which was already hard and just  
getting harder as he listened to Wesley's breathing. "Good boy. Not too fast, now. Just nice and slow."

Christ, he could fucking *hear* the rhythm that Wes was setting... nice and slow, just like he'd been told. Angel  
matched that rhythm with his hips, thrusting his cock lazily up into his fist. Letting himself enjoy it.

"Any other suggestions?" Wesley asked after thirty seconds or so.

"Don't come," Angel said. "Only that's not a suggestion -- more like me telling you what to do."

"Well then, there's hardly any point to this exercise, is there?" The way Wes could sound calm and proper  
when he was turned on, when Angel *knew* that Wes was still jacking himself off, just made it that much hotter.

"I didn't say you couldn't come at *all*," Angel told him. "Just not right away."

"All right," Wes agreed. "Are you... as well?"

Angel snorted. "You think I could listen to you doing that and not?"

Wesley made a little sound of pleasure, and then said, "Of course -- you can hear everything, can't you."

"Yeah. Not as good as getting to *see* everything, but it'll do." A good imagination didn't hurt either. He could  
picture Wes stretched out on his back, one leg bent, cock in hand. The flush on his skin like the first palest  
tinge of sunrise.

"I want to -- " Wes started.

"No," Angel said. "Not yet. Keep going. Slow it down, if you have to."

Wesley did, his hand's movements at half speed now. "Please," he said after a minute. "Angel..."

"Not yet," Angel said, though his own hips were moving faster now, and his cock and hand were slick with  
pre-come.

Gasps on the other end of the line, almost-pained sounds that slipped from Wes despite his obvious attempts  
to hold them in. "Angel, *please.*"

"Okay," Angel said, needing Wes to come more than he needed to himself. "Come on, Wes, let me hear you."

"Angel," Wes whimpered, and he heard Wes' breath catch in his throat and the faint groan as Wes came, and  
that was more than enough to throw him over the edge too. Angel's thighs tensed and his back arched  
slightly, his cock throbbing between his fingers as the orgasm spilled from him along with a moan of pleasure.

He waited while Wes' breathing slowed gradually, a slight hum to the outward breaths that spoke of satisfaction,  
before he asked, "Better?"

Wesley chuckled. "Better than what? Better than having you here? No, most assuredly not."

"You were the one who -- "

"I know," Wesley said. "I know. And you were right."

Angel blinked. He wasn't used to hearing anyone say those words, or at least, not directed at him. "I was?"

"Yes. You should have spent the night."

"Yeah. You said that before." Filled with lassitude now, Angel longed to just hold Wes, to have him in his arms  
and... geez, soft didn't even begin to describe it. He was head over heels, was what he was. "Well, there's  
always tomorrow."

"That's true." Wes' voice was quiet now. "Angel?"

"Yeah, Wes?"

"Thank you. For... everything."

Angel smiled. "Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

"All right. Good night, l-" Wes cut himself off from whatever he'd been about to say and finished simply,  
"Good night."

"'Night, Wes."

 

* * * * *

 

The following evening:

It was late, and the restaurant was close to empty.

"That's really not the point," Fred was saying. "I mean, if there's a way to make the visions less damaging to  
Wesley's brain, why wouldn't there be a way to transfer them back - or, first..." her forehead wrinkled in confusion  
at what she was trying to say for a second before she continued, "Okay, not *back,* but to someone else? Someone  
who's *already* part demon like that Doyle guy was?"

"Well, we'd need to find someone who didn't mind his or her brain being assaulted on a regular basis," Wesley  
pointed out, as he used his fork to push the last few bites of his food around on his plate. "Not to mention  
someone who was willing to commit to the cause, to put his or her life in jeopardy... it seems far simpler for  
me to just continue on the way I have been."

"Unless that spell didn't work," Angel said, joining in the conversation for the first time in minutes. He'd been slowly  
sipping a glass of red wine while the others ate dinner and Wesley filled Gunn and Fred in on what he'd done in his  
time on the East coast.

"Unless it didn't work," Wesley agreed. "In which case we'll need to explore other avenues."

"Like what?" Angel met his gaze seriously, aware of Fred and Gunn on the periphery but not needing them  
for this discussion.

Wesley glanced down at his plate. "Other avenues," he repeated. "If I knew exactly what they were, I'd tell  
you." He looked back up at Angel, and his blue eyes spoke volumes.

Gunn cleared his throat. "Well, we'll do what we've got to, right? Seems to me like there are spells for  
everything - if this wasn't the right one, the right one's gotta be out there somewhere."

"Exactly," Wesley said, nodding at him. "There are always other avenues. One simply has to find them."

"Right now the avenue *I* need is to the men's room," said Gunn, pushing back from the table and standing up.  
"Be right back."

As soon as he was out of sight, Fred leaned forward in her seat and said, conspiratorially, "I know what's  
going on, you know."

Angel glanced at Wes before he could stop himself, knowing even as he did that it could give the game  
away. Assuming Wes wanted to deny whatever it was Fred thought she knew. "Um... right. What do you know?"

She widened her eyes. "About you two."

"About Angel and myself?" Wesley asked, obviously hoping that she'd clarify what she meant.

"Well yeah. You think I haven't noticed all the little looks, and the touching? I'm not blind, you guys - I mean,  
sure, maybe I'm a little bit scattered sometimes, but that doesn't mean I don't see things."

It hadn't escaped Angel that she'd waited until Gunn had left the table to speak up. "You, um... you haven't  
said anything to Gunn?"

Fred dropped her eyes to the tablecloth in front of her, her fingers stealing out to pluck at a tiny imperfection  
in the fabric. "I didn't - I didn't know what to say. I wasn't sure how he'd take it."

Wesley nodded. "And what do *you* think about it, Fred?"

She glanced up at both of them and smiled shyly. "It's fine by me. I mean, it's not really any of my business. I  
just thought you should know... that I know."

"You don't think Gunn's gonna like the idea," Angel said flatly.

"I don't know," Fred repeated. "Sometimes guys can be funny about things like that. My uncle had a fit when  
he found out my cousin was gay. Well actually, she prefers the term lesbian. And sometimes she called her  
girlfriend a dyke, which I don't understand. I mean, why 'dyke?' What does a big, solid wall have to do with  
lesbians?"

"Well, I don't think - " Angel started.

But Fred continued on without pause. "I mean, dikes hold back water. And a lesbian dyke is like a really tough  
woman, right? Is there some connection there that I'm missing?" Her expression was puzzled.

"Honestly, Fred, I've no idea," Wesley answered her.

"Well anyway, that's not important. I was just trying to explain why it's okay with me. Not that you need my  
permission or anything."

Wesley nodded. "No, but it's good of you to say." He glanced at Angel as if *he* was the one looking for  
permission, and then continued, "It's still... rather new. We're trying to figure things out. We weren't  
deliberately keeping it from you..."

"Oh, I figured that," Fred said with a wave of her hand. "Besides, you're entitled to some privacy. And I don't  
mean to be sticking my nose into it -- it just seemed weird not to tell you that I knew. That's why I wanted  
to say something."

"And why you waited until the right moment to do so," Wesley pointed out, looking deliberately in the direction  
in which Gunn had disappeared.

"Yeah. I thought the last thing you needed was someone getting all strange on you. Not that I know Charles  
*would* get all strange because maybe he wouldn't and I'm just worrying for nothing and..." She dropped  
her eyes to the tablecloth again. "But I'm... happy for you, you know?"

Angel felt warmed by her words in a way he wouldn't have liked to admit. "Thanks."

Before Wesley could say anything, Gunn came back to the table and slumped down into his chair in the  
loose-limbed, nearly-boneless way he had of relaxing. "Okay, what's with the serious faces?"

Angel knew better than to try the lie himself -- he quickly picked up his glass of wine and took another sip  
as an excuse.

"We were just saying that it's hard, waiting for the next vision. You know, waiting to see what happens," Fred  
said, nodding like people were agreeing with her or she was agreeing with someone else. Or something.

"Right," said Gunn. "But we've got it covered, right? I mean, nothing more we can do now 'cept wait."

"Exactly," Wes said. "Just because *some people* - who shall remain nameless - " and he looked pointedly at  
Angel in emphasis, "think we should be able to control every little aspect of life, doesn't mean we can."

Angel thought that was pretty rich, coming from Wesley. "I never said anything about controlling," he protested  
mildly.

"No, but it's what you'd like to do, isn't it?"

"Well... yeah," he said. "But I didn't *say* that."

"You didn't have to."

Their eyes were locked on each other, and Angel was aware of how intense the conversation was getting.

"It's normal to want to control things," Fred broke in, as if she'd sensed the tension and wanted to do something  
to relieve it. "People like to control all sorts of things. Or try to, anyway."

"This is getting pretty heavy," Gunn said. "I thought this was s'posed to be a celebration about Wes making it  
home safe and sound. What happened to the lighthearted fun?"

"I broke it?" Angel suggested, and felt well-rewarded when Fred and Gunn both broke into wide smiles.

"Haven't you ever heard the saying 'You broke it, you bought it?'" Gunn asked.

He grinned back and glanced at Wesley, who was looking mildly amused at the very least. "How much is  
lighthearted fun going for these days, anyway?"

"Quite a bit more than any of us can afford," Wes said. "Perhaps we can apply for a grant."

"Awful lot of paperwork," Gunn pointed out.

"But for good reason," Wesley said. "Everyone needs *some* lighthearted fun. What do you suppose  
our lives would be like without it?"

Gunn's eyes crinkled as he grinned. "Pretty much the way they are now?"

"Oh, yes. Good point."

"If this isn't lighthearted fun, I don't know what is," Angel said, trying to sound grumpy and failing miserably.  
His heart was lighter than it had been in a long time.

 

* * * * *

 

Wesley had gotten up to take a book from the shelf when he suddenly stiffened, just the tiniest bit. Anyone  
else might not have noticed.

But Angel did.

He flew across the room and grabbed onto Wes just as his back arched and he dove sideways, one hand  
clutched to his head as he spasmed.

"Shh," Angel said helplessly, trying to soothe him with words and hands and not knowing if it was doing a  
damned bit of good. Wesley jerked again, breathing suspended. "Okay, hang on, Wes. Just another second.  
Hang on."

Five seconds more, and then Wesley relaxed in his arms with a sigh. Angel could feel the long, shuddering  
trembles that went through him, and then he smelled blood.

"Damn," Wes said hoarsely, and scrabbled in his pocket.

"Shh," Angel said again, as he shoved Wesley's hand aside and got the handkerchief he'd been looking for.  
He pressed it under Wes' nose and held it there until Wes got his own hand around it. "I thought these had  
stopped."

"They had," Wesley said, his voice muffled until he adjusted the handkerchief, refolding it more compactly.  
"These are new ones. From the spell." He sat up slowly without moving out of Angel's embrace.

Angel frowned. "But they'll go away? Like before?" He hadn't failed to notice that Wesley seemed to be in less  
pain this time, that the vision had been shorter.

"I should think so, yes." Wesley pulled the cotton square away from his face and looked at it dubiously. "As  
I said before, this spell wasn't as powerful as the previous one. One would hope that the residual effects of  
the spell would be of lesser intensity, as well." He glanced at Angel. "A number of demons -- at least four or  
five, possibly more -- attacking a woman in an alley."

"When and where?" Angel asked, rocking his weight back onto his heels in case he'd need to move fast.

Wesley hesitated, and then just as he opened his mouth to speak, Gunn appeared in the office doorway. "Vision?"

"Yes," Wesley answered, and started to get to his feet.

Gunn moved forward in time to get Wes' other arm, and between them they helped him up and over to a chair.

"We have time," Wesley said. "It's not until this evening..."

"But what?" Angel asked.

"It's the location that's going to be a problem. It's not here -- not in L.A., I mean. It's somewhere north, perhaps  
northeast -- a couple of hours. I saw a few landmarks -- I'll have to get on the computer and see if I can't  
determine exactly where it is we're meant to go..." Wesley started to get up again, and Angel pushed him back  
down with a hand on his shoulder.

"If we've got until tonight, you've got five minutes to catch your breath before you go into research mode," Angel  
pointed out, and then paused. "Seems like that spell worked."

"Yes, doesn't it," said Wesley, rubbing at his temples and dabbing at his nose one last time with the  
handkerchief. The smell of the now-drying blood was like an off-key note in Angel's nostrils -- he could  
sense the perfection because it was Wes. The dissonance came in because it was something he had to deny  
himself at all costs.

"You want some aspirin or somethin'?" Gunn asked, looking at Wesley worriedly. "Maybe the spell worked, but  
you still look like you took a hard right to the chin."

Wes started to nod and then aborted the movement. "Well, that's part of the problem, certainly. If you block  
enough of the vision to render it painless, you also render it unseeable -- or unreadable, I suppose. My hope  
is that the spell has brought the visions down to the level of discomfort that Doyle used to experience."

"Doesn't sound like too much to hope for to me," Gunn said, heading for the doorway.

As soon as he was gone, Angel cupped Wesley's chin in his hand and turned his head, forcing Wes to meet his  
eyes. "You okay?"

Wesley nodded. "Yes. It's a marked improvement, honestly. I'm not certain how we'll be able to judge  
whether the actual damage is being averted, but as I said, I'm hopeful."

Angel's hand moved up along Wes' jawline and around to cup the back of his head. The thought of what  
had happened to Cordy happening to Wes... it made him feel sick. He leaned down and kissed Wes, softly,  
lingeringly. "Hopeful's not good enough," he said.

Wes just looked at him. "I don't know what you want me to say, Angel," he said finally.

"That you'll be okay."

"None of us can know that."

Something in his gut twisted and Angel frowned, his thumb still caressing the space just behind Wesley's  
ear. "I need you to be okay," he admitted.

"I'll do my best," Wes said, half of his mouth curving up into an almost-smile. "As long as you'll promise to  
do the same."

He'd just started to lean in again when Gunn came back into the office with a glass of water in one hand  
and a bottle of pills in the other. Angel pulled his hand back from Wes's head and stood up straighter, trying  
to look casual.

Gunn raised an eyebrow at him. "Something going on that I should know about?"

"What? No. I mean... no." Angel smiled nervously.

"Right." Gunn handed the glass of water to Wesley and pried the cap off of the bottle. "How many you want?"

Wesley seemed to consider this for a few seconds. "Two, please."

Two, Angel thought, was a good number.

 

* * * * *

 

"Vecznuchnz," Wesley said.

"God bless you?"

Wesley shot Angel a look. "The demons," he said patiently.

"Oh. Right." Angel got up from where he'd been sitting and came over to take the book Wesley was offering him.  
"They look - big," he said. Which was an understatement - the things were huge, if the scale of the drawings  
was accurate. The little humanoid pencil sketch was barely over half the height of the demon, which looked  
more like a kid's crude clay version of a monster than anything else.

Wes nodded. "Yes, they're quite large. As adults they sometimes reach up to eight feet in height and  
they're... well, the picture may be a slight exaggeration, but... large is probably a sufficient description."

He looked down at the drawing again, and then back up at Wesley. "And there were how many of them?"

"Four or five. At least." Wes looked almost apologetic, like he didn't want to be bearer of bad news.

"Sounds like we're gonna need some serious firepower," Gunn said from his place behind Fred, who was sitting  
in front of the computer.

"Weapons aren't a problem," Wesley said. "Again, the issue is identifying the location."

Fred hit a few more keys, and then turned to look at them with a smile. "That's not an issue, either. I think I've  
got it."

"Really? Well done." Wesley got up and went to look over her shoulder too, so Angel followed.

Pointing to the screen in illustration, Fred explained, "There, see? An alley behind a big building -- that's this  
office building. And it's brick, just like you said, and the number's 697. It's the only one that makes any sense."

"I think you're right," Wesley said. "That could very well be it. Good work, Fred."

She beamed up at him, obviously delighted at the praise. Throw the girl a scrap and she'd act like she'd been  
given a diamond ring. Angel was never sure if that was endearing, or just sad.

"So what are we talking as far as weapons go?" Gunn asked. "What's gonna take these things down?"

Wesley came back and took the book from Angel's hands. "Fire's no good," he said ruefully. "Which is  
unfortunate. Severing their heads is effective..."

"Old standby," Gunn muttered.

"...except," Wesley continued, looking at Gunn, "for the fact that their spines are exceedingly strong."

"How strong?" Fred asked.

"People who've attempted to cut the bodies up for disposal have discovered that chain saws haven't been  
enough to get the job done."

Gunn crossed his arms and looked annoyed. He was good at that. "Okay," he said. "So what *will* work?"

"I'm afraid we're stuck with hacking them into little pieces until they stop moving."

"And that," Angel said, taking the book back from Wes and setting it down on the desk next to the computer,  
"would be the old standby."

"It looks like it'll take about an hour and a half to get there." Fred was typing away at the computer again, and  
the printer made a beeping sound and then started to scroll a piece of paper through. "Did you get a time?"

"I definitely got the impression that it's going to be on the late side," Wesley answered. "But I think it best if  
we err on the side of caution and try to get there before nightfall."

"Might want to think about hitting the road, then," Gunn said, looking at his watch. "Want me to load up the truck?"

Wesley didn't respond for a few seconds, and Angel realized that he didn't know they were all waiting for him to  
answer. "Wes?" he prompted.

Startled, Wesley looked at him and then at Gunn. "Oh. Er, no, let's take the SUV," he said. "Easier to keep Angel  
out of the sunlight, if we're going to be leaving soon."

"We should take some of the projectile weapons," Fred offered. "I mean, better not to have to get too close,  
right? Especially if these demons are extra-tough."

Angel nodded and then shook his head. "Um, Fred. I think you should stay here. Tonight."

"Oh." Fred's expression was a mixture of disappointment and relief.

Gunn came over and leaned down, wrapping his arms around her thin frame and pressing a kiss to the top  
of her head. "Yeah. You stay here where it's safe."

"But maybe I could help," Fred protested.

Wesley cleared his throat. "I think it should be Fred's decision, don't you?"

She nodded briskly from within the circle of Gunn's arms and said, "It's not that I don't appreciate you wanting  
to protect me -- I do. But there's no guarantee that anyone's going to be safe, anywhere. Believe me, I know."

Angel frowned. He didn't want to stir up trouble, or go against what Wes wanted. But he didn't like the idea of  
Fred in the middle of the kind of battle they were talking about. "She should stay here," he found himself saying,  
looking at Wesley and not Fred.

"She's not a child," Wesley said, and his voice had a sharp edge to it that Angel wasn't sure he could remember  
having heard before. Wasn't sure that he liked. More quietly, Wes continued, "She can make her own decisions."

"I don't think -- " Angel started, but Fred jumped in to interrupt him.

"No, it's okay," she said quickly. "I think... Charles is right. I'll stay here. Besides, it's good to have someone here  
to answer the phone, right?" She had that slightly-scared look about her, the one that spoke of wanting everyone  
to get along.

Angel nodded shortly. "Good. I'm just gonna go... get some weapons..." He left the office and headed for the  
weapons' cabinet, wanting - no, *needing,* a few minutes to himself.

He should have known he wouldn't get it. Within thirty seconds Wesley was there beside him, looking  
thoughtfully at the collection of swords and axes.

"Sorry," Angel said.

Wesley reached out and took the newer crossbow from the case. "It's all right."

"No, you're right. Fred can make her own decisions. It's not up to me to tell her whether she has to stay. Or... not."

"You're still in charge here, Angel," Wes said, pulling back the string of the crossbow with some effort.  
Angel'd thought that thing needed to be loosened up. Wes turned to look at him. "You know that."

Actually, Angel thought, which of them was in charge was one of the things he *didn't* know. "Doesn't mean  
I can make other people's decisions for them," he offered finally. "And this isn't about who's in charge."

"No?" Wesley's blue eyes were watching him, slightly guarded.

"No. It's about what's right."

Wesley nodded, a little smile playing about his lips. "This isn't easy, is it."

"Nah. They say nothing worth having comes easy, though."

 

* * * * *

 

"You're sure this looks familiar?" Angel wasn't trying to be annoying, but they'd been hanging out for more than  
half an hour and he was starting to get antsy. Gunn was getting twitchy too. Angel thought that they were making  
each other nervous.

Wes, on the other hand, was projecting an aura of calm, waiting patiently like they had all night. "I'm as sure as  
I was the last time you asked me, which was less than five minutes ago," he pointed out. "This is -- "

Before he could finish his sentence, Angel caught the faintest hint of a sound, like a shriek being cut off along with  
someone's air. "Quiet," he said quickly, and then, "This way," as he took off in the direction that the noise had  
come from, leaving Gunn and Wesley to follow as best they could with human speed.

Angel turned the corner all in a blur and nearly ran smack into a demon the size of a house -- well, okay, maybe  
more like a shack, but still. There was a difference between seeing a drawing of something in a book and  
actually encountering it in all its slathering glory. The demon swung at him -- not too fast, thank God -- and  
he ducked and slipped under its arm behind it, bringing his sword in a smooth arc up against the back of its  
neck. The blade sliced in deep, and then he felt the jarring of his own arm muscles as the swing was stopped  
by bone. Blood spurted as he yanked the sword back out and whirled away, trying to get a feel for the situation.

There were two more demons close by, and another two had the woman who had cried out earlier further  
back in the alleyway. She was struggling weakly, but Angel thought she was already at the end of her  
endurance. He thought they must be planning on taking her somewhere, to kill or feed, or they'd already  
have done it.

Gunn rounded the corner, followed closely by Wesley. Even from where he was Angel could see Wes take in  
the scene in a fraction of an instant, could see the comprehension and sense of control flash across his face.  
He had to force himself to turn his attention back to the battle rather than continue to watch Wes.

Leaving the injured demon to Gunn and Wesley, he moved quickly to the nearest of the other two and attacked  
without pause, hacking at it with his sword with as much force as he could put into the swings. He hit its  
arms several times each, and it seemed to be losing a good deal of blood. Again, he was grateful that these  
things weren't faster. Angel danced out of the way of a lumbering blow from the second demon and jammed  
the sword into the first one's side, up under where he thought its ribcage might be, hoping he might get  
lucky and puncture something important. The creature screamed, the sound like a fierce wind, and as Angel  
struggled to pull the sword free -- because you never abandoned your weapon if you could help it -- the  
second demon slammed into him with its giant paw.

He felt the blow across his side like a sledgehammer -- and yeah, he remembered what being hit with a  
sledgehammer felt like. It was the kind of blow that would have knocked the breath from a living  
creature. Angel stubbornly kept his grip on the hilt of his sword, and he felt the blade slip free of the first  
demon's body at the same time his own hurtled through the air. He slid across the cement, feeling the  
already-torn fabric of his shirt disintegrate from the friction, taking a bunch of his skin with it. It was  
like being rubbed across sandpaper.

Rolling, Angel got back up, sword in hand, in time to see the original demon go down, Gunn hacking at it  
with his axe. Wesley had already turned his attention to the third demon, and as Angel watched a bolt  
from the crossbow flew through the air to land with a meaty *thock* in the third demon's throat. The second  
creature -- the one he'd stabbed -- was already down and didn't seem capable of getting back up.

The standing demon pawed at its own neck, trying to remove the bolt, and only succeeded in snapping the  
shaft, leaving the barbed metal head buried in its throat. It moved toward Wesley -- faster than Angel  
would have thought likely, considering -- and Angel leapt toward it, dimly aware that one of the demons  
that had been dragging the woman further away down the alley had left its companion-in-kidnapping and  
was now headed back toward the fray. He hacked at the one that seemed intent on Wesley, who calmly reloaded  
the crossbow and hit it with another bolt, this one embedding itself in the creature's cheek just below its eye.  
It made one of those wind-like shrieks and swept its arm at Wes, who managed to jump back out of the way in  
time.

"Watch it," Angel shouted at him, too late.

Gunn finished with the first demon and came to help, his axe slicing through the air. Slice. Arm. Slice. Side.  
Slice. Shoulder. Angel turned to engage the fourth demon and heard a voice -- a familiar voice that wasn't  
Gunn's or Wesley's -- say, very clearly, "Angelus."

He glanced sideways and caught sight of a slender person standing, weapon in hand, to one side of the  
alleyway. His eyes flickered across the figure, back toward the approaching demon, and then, hopelessly,  
helplessly, back to the young man standing there.

Connor.

Undead hearts don't stop or skip a beat when something dramatic happens, but Angel was frozen all the  
same. He knew that the demon was close, and then that it was too close, and he heard Wesley shouting  
his name just as a tremendous blow struck him and blotted out the world.

 

* * * * *

 

Something was touching his face.

Angel tried to jerk away from the touch, but gentle hands subdued him, hands that his body recognized even  
while his mind was still reeling in confusion. He relented, sinking back down onto the wadded up, lumpy fabric  
underneath his head. It was dark and he blinked rapidly, unable to remember the last time his vision had  
been so screwed up.

"Hang on," he heard someone saying, as if from far away, and then a rough cloth was wiping his eyes. He  
blinked some more and his vision cleared, mostly. Angel realized that his eyes had been full of blood.

"Angel? Can you hear me?" He could, although something was messed up about his hearing too, and it was  
Wes' voice so he wanted to answer, but he couldn't find any words. He brought a hand up to his ear and  
wiped his fingers across it, and they came away wet with more blood. There was a muffled exclamation  
from Wesley, and then the same cloth was swabbing the side of his head gently, removing some of the  
blood from his ear canal. Sound returned to its normal volume.

"Wes?" he croaked, and even with his hearing back, his voice sounded wrong.

"It's all right. Just lie still for a few moments until you get your strength back." Wesley's face came into view.  
There was a smear of blood across his glasses and another across his cheek, but he looked good to Angel.  
Damned good.

"What happened? The girl?" Memory poured over him, and he struggled to a sitting position despite the  
burning pain in his side and the crushing one in his head. "Connor."

Wesley moved immediately to support him, a warm arm behind his back. "He was here," he agreed, and  
just that acknowledgement was enough to make Angel relax a bit. "He helped us to kill the last two demons,  
and then he..."

"He left," Angel finished for him, emptily. It wasn't like he hadn't been looking for the boy -- but all the same,  
actually finding him, in the last place he ever would have looked, had been a complete shock. A shock that  
could have gotten them all killed, he realized. "The girl?" he asked again.

"She doesn't seem to be seriously injured -- Gunn's with her out at the front of the building, waiting for the  
ambulance." Wes looked over his shoulder as flashing lights bounced off all the reflective surfaces in the  
alley. "It's here. Hang on just a moment... and wait here," he said, in a voice that broached no argument. He  
got up and walked away, leaving Angel sitting there on the rough cement and feeling, just briefly, more  
alone than he could remember feeling for a long time. But the demons were dead, and he hurt, and it was  
easier to just sit there, especially considering the ambulance workers might want to take too close a look  
at him if they saw all the blood.

He lowered his head to rest on his knee and sighed, then sat back up and inhaled carefully. Underneath all  
the other scents that were layered on top of each other -- blood, sweat, oil, manmade things like plastic --  
he could smell Connor.

Before he could even turn his head, Connor's voice came from the shadows. "I should have killed you."

Angel did turn then, casually. "But you didn't."

A long pause. "No. I thought..."

A longer pause, and Angel waited.

Finally, Connor said, "I wanted you to suffer."

Angel listened carefully. He could hear Wes and Gunn talking at the other end of the alley, where the lights  
on the ambulance continued to flash. Silently urging them to stay where they were for just a little bit longer,  
he said, quietly, "Well, mission accomplished. Why?"

"You needed to suffer. To make up for all the people that you hurt. All the people you killed."

"Do you really think doing that to me made up for anything?" He kept his voice low.

"Yes." Silence. "I don't know." Connor sounded frustrated, and he was so quiet that if Angel hadn't known  
better he might have thought he'd left again. "It doesn't matter. You got out."

"Yeah. I did." He wasn't ready to go into the details of that, maybe ever. That whole period was something  
he didn't want to think about.

"So what are you going to do now?"

Angel tried to think of what to say. "What I've been doing all along -- trying to help people. I might not be able  
to make up for the things I've done in the past... but I have to try."

"Right," Connor said dismissively. "Why are you here?"

"Long story. Why are *you* here?"

Another pause. Angel thought that a conversation between the two of them consisted of more silence  
than talking.

Finally, Connor said, "She's missing. The other night, she went out to the store, and she didn't come home.  
Her car was still parked on the street, and I thought -- "

"Who's missing?" Angel interrupted.

"Justine."

He blinked, and not just to clear his eyes of the blood that seemed like maybe it was leaking directly from  
them. "Justine," he repeated flatly. "You've... been with her all this time?"

He thought he saw Connor nod. "We went far away -- to Utah. It was what my father wanted. It was beautiful  
there, but we couldn't stay."

"Why not?" Angel hoped his voice didn't betray his feelings on hearing Connor call Holtz his father.

"Because... because it was only one part of what he'd taught me. He -- I was supposed to lay waste  
to the evil. But there wasn't any there. So we came back."

"You came back to California so that you could lay waste to evil."

"I didn't know you'd be here," Connor said, with what might have been the tiniest hint of humor in  
his voice.

Painfully, Angel shifted forward and got up slowly, aiming for being as non-threatening as possible. Which  
given the way he was favoring his injured side probably wasn't a big issue, now that he thought about it.  
"Well, like I said -- long story. Unless you want to stick around long enough to hear it?"

Connor stepped backward, further into the shadows. "No. I have other things to do."

Angel's disappointment and yearning were so strong that it was hard to remind himself that this boy was  
the one who'd tossed him into the ocean, planning to leave him there for all eternity. "Okay." The bitterness  
in his voice was apparent even to himself.

Another long silence, and then,"You hate me now," Connor said, and Angel could hear him as he turned and  
started to walk away. When the boy spoke again it was in a very, very quiet voice. "Good. I hate you, too."

"I don't hate you," he responded, but there was no reply. He repeated it, a little louder, the sound of his voice  
echoing slightly. "I don't hate you!"

Angel was so focused on listening to the barely-there sounds of Connor as they faded into complete  
nothingness that he didn't notice when Wesley came back, and almost jumped out of his skin when Wes  
asked, "Was that...?"

"Yeah."

"Did he...?"

"What?" Angel asked, and his voice was harsh. "Try to kill me? No. Apparently he's got better things to do."

Wesley's hand was warm as it brushed against the back of his own. "I'm sorry," he offered.

Angel sighed and tried to ignore the way his head was throbbing. "No. I shouldn't have let myself get  
distracted like that."

"As soon as the ambulance leaves and Gunn comes back, we could go after him?" Wesley sounded hesitant.

"No," he said again, and bent down to pick up Wes' coat that he'd been lying on before. He handed it over,  
wincing a little as the healing skin over his rib cage pulled tight. "It's too soon. I don't -- "

"Um, guys?" Gunn said, heading up the alley toward them and stopping about ten feet away. "I hate to  
break up the parental conversation, but I think we've got a bigger problem on our hands." He jerked  
his thumb sideways and Angel moved toward him, trying to get his brain to absorb whatever it was  
he was being shown.

"What are we looking at?" he asked.

"Well, I might be wrong, but I'm pretty sure there were five big dead hulking monsters here a little while ago."

Angel's head swiveled as he took in their surroundings. One, two, three, four... four. Shit. "Shit," he said.  
"Number five wasn't dead."

"Looks like. I thought it was right here..." Gunn gestured with his hand at the space, which intersected  
with another even more dimly-lit alleyway.

"Which means it probably went that way," Wes said, thinking aloud what was obviously going through all  
of their heads at the same time. "Angel, can you...?"

He moved in closer, the scent of the demon's blood thick in the air. It was rank and metallic, and once he'd  
taken a few steps down the alleyway it was easier to separate out the still-living smell from those of the  
already-dead. "Yeah," he said. "This way. Where's my sword?"

Gunn cleared his throat. "It... didn't exactly survive the battle."

"Okay." Angel continued to stalk his way further into the darkness, aware that Wesley and Gunn were  
following him. "What happened?"

"When," there was only the slightest of hesitations before Wesley kept going, "Connor showed up and you  
were knocked out, he jumped into the fray and picked up your sword. He was quite remarkable, really - he's  
an amazing fighter. But after all of the demons had been killed -- although under the current circumstances  
I suppose it would be more accurate to say 'after we *thought* they'd all been killed' -- he..."

The pause grew long and Gunn picked up the rest of the sentence. "He broke it over his knee."

"He did what?" Angel stopped and looked back at both of them in amazement. "Okay, that doesn't make  
any sense. Why would he destroy a perfectly good..." Oh. Right. Because it belonged to the father that he  
didn't want to admit was his. Great.

"He's hotheaded," Gunn said, as they started walking again. "Guess we know where he gets that from."

"Can't imagine."

Gunn made a sound that Angel recognized as frustration. "That's it? You don't have anything else to say  
about the fact that you just saw the kid that threw you into the ocean?"

"Nope." It was easier not to talk about it.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. 'Course, there's the fact that he's also following us right now." Wesley and Gunn's steps both  
faltered behind him, and he paused so that they could keep up. The blood trail the demon had left behind  
was getting warmer; Angel didn't want to catch up with it too quickly, not if there were more of them  
where they were headed.

"He's following us?" Wesley asked quietly, from his left side, pressing the sword he'd been using himself  
into Angel's hand and adjusting his grip on the crossbow.

"Up above." Angel gestured with his head to the rooftops, keeping his own voice just as quiet. He wasn't  
sure just how good Connor's hearing was -- he knew it was better than most humans'. Assuming Connor  
was actually human, and he wasn't sure that was a safe thing to assume. "Justine disappeared near  
here -- he's been looking for her."

Wes didn't respond to that, and Angel realized that casually mentioning the woman who'd betrayed  
Wes and slit his throat might not have been the best idea.

"Good," Gunn said. "Maybe we'll find her and I can kick her ass."

"Gunn," Wesley said, quietly reproving, but there was an undertone to his voice that Angel didn't like the  
sound of.

There wasn't time to deal with it, though, because the trail of blood they'd been following wound its way  
into a gaping hole in the side of a ruined building.

"Looks like the place," Gunn said, peering into the building with an expression that had its roots in some  
dark kind of joy. "We gonna wait for the stalker?"

Angel shook his head and stepped into the black, his eyes scanning for signs of ambush. The blood smears  
dragged across the rough floor -- some of it cement, some broken boards -- and disappeared through a  
wide doorway on the other side of the large room. "Come on."

Wes and Gunn shadowed him to the doorway, where he saw stone steps leading down into further  
blackness. The scent of blood was fainter now, but from below Angel could smell something less  
pleasant -- fetid, earthy, dank. "Stay close," he said, and started down the staircase. Muscles bunched  
in his thighs as he moved at half speed, all of his senses strained to their limits.

There was nowhere to go but left at the bottom of the stairs. Angel gestured at Gunn to move out to one  
side, trying to keep Wesley behind and between them so that he'd have time to get off a shot if it was  
needed. The darkness was more complete down here, despite an eerie red glow, and he worried that  
the other two might not be able to see well enough, but there was nothing he could do about that now.

They started to move in the general direction of the glow, cautiously, quietly, going further into the depths  
of the building. It wasn't completely quiet -- in addition to the sounds of Wes and Gunn breathing, Angel  
could hear a dull throbbing sound, like a giant's heartbeat.

"I hear something," he whispered.

"What?" Gunn whispered back.

He listened again. It was such a low sound that it was almost like he was feeling it in his gut, rather than  
hearing it. It was a bass rumble, a trembling echo. "I don't know. Something big."

"Don't like the sound of that," Gunn said.

Angel tightened his hand on the sword's hilt. "I don't like it, either." He frowned but kept moving --  
something wasn't right, he didn't know what it was, and standing still wasn't going to get them anywhere.  
Literally.

They went around one corner and then another, the glow and the noise leading him, and then Angel  
caught sight of the demon at about the same time the scent of the blood trail grew considerably  
stronger. "Hang on," he said to Gunn and Wesley very quietly, and whipped around the corner and,  
with all his strength, brought the sword blade through the unmoving demon's neck, nearly severing its head.

The creature never flinched, and the wound was almost bloodless. Angel looked down and there  
was a congealing pool of blood on the floor, strangely lit by the red glow that he still hadn't identified.  
What with all the blood the demon had lost during the first fight and then as it dragged itself back here  
to its lair, and the puddle around it...

He looked quickly to see if there were any more of the things, but the room was mostly empty except  
for a fissure in the stone floor, from which the red glow and the weird pulsing noise both seemed to be  
emanating. There wasn't anywhere for something as big as one of these demons to hide.

"Good job killing the already-dead-thing, Angel," Gunn said, with almost a snicker.

"Hey," he protested mildly, looking back at the demon. "I didn't know it was already dead. What if it  
hadn't been?"

"No, you did the right thing," Wesley said, crossing the room hesitantly to peer down into the fissure.  
"They've been doing some sort of magic," he said. "Working on a ritual. But they should have had -- "

There was a slight whimper. Angel moved past Wes and over into the corner where, behind some boxes,  
were the bodies of two women. One was obviously dead -- he could tell by how still she was, utterly  
unmoving. The other whimpered again, her head bowed low, hair hanging over her face. Her leg was  
broken in several places and the way she was breathing made him think she might have a few broken ribs, too.

"It's okay," Angel told her, not stepping any closer because he wasn't sure how she'd react.

Wesley came over and squatted down next to her, setting the crossbow to one side. "It's all right. We're  
going to get you out of..." His hand, which had reached out to brush her hair out of her face, froze, and  
Angel could tell something was wrong. Wes cleared his throat and continued, his voice rough. "We're  
going to get you out of here." He stood up and backed away from her, and as she lifted her face for the first  
time Angel saw what Wesley had already seen. It was Justine.

"I don't want your help," she said.

"You may not want it, but you most certainly need it," Wesley said, without looking at her, and then said to the  
room in general, "The leg's going to need to be splinted before we can move her."

"I'll do it," Connor stood in the doorway, the red glow cast by the fissure in the center of the room staining  
his face like blood. He had a small axe gripped in his hand, and Angel wondered idly where he'd put it if he'd  
used Angel's sword in the earlier fight.

"There are some scraps of wood over there that might work," Wesley told him, gesturing toward a corner  
of the room.

"I've got it." Connor said. He went and picked up a couple of pieces, and then moved past Wes to kneel on  
the floor next to Justine. "What about her?" he asked, nodding his head at the other woman.

"She's dead," Angel said. He went over to the fissure and looked down. "Shouldn't we do something about this?"

"Yes," Wesley said. "But I won't be able to without doing some research first. And unfortunately all of the  
books are back at the office. Gunn, if I gave you a list, perhaps you could go back and retrieve some things  
for us? I'm not sure we should leave this unattended..."

Gunn nodded. "Yeah, just tell me what you need and I'll take care of it."

"And drop Connor and his friend off at the nearest hospital?" It didn't escape Angel's notice that Wes not  
only didn't want to say Justine's name, but that since he'd realized who she was, he hadn't looked at her.

"I don't need a hospital," Justine said.

"No, of course not," Wesley agreed, still without turning in her direction. "Better to let your broken leg  
fester until it rots off than admit you need to seek medical attention."

Justine's chin set defiantly, but she grimaced as Connor yanked the strips of fabric he'd ripped from the  
dead woman's shirt tight around her leg. "It's none of your business," she said.

Wesley sighed, and Angel thought he sounded defeated. "No, it's not. It's your decision. If you don't want  
to go to the emergency room, then by all means feel free to doctor yourself."

"We're going," Connor said, and got to his feet with Justine in his arms like she was no heavier than a  
child. "Will you give us a ride?" he asked Gunn.

"Yeah. Come on." They headed back to the doorway, and then Gunn hesitated. "You two gonna be okay here?"

"Yes. Ring us when you get to L.A., and I'll tell you what I need you to bring back." Wesley waited, the  
crossbow still in his hands, while the three of them left, and then sighed heavily and bent to set it  
down on the floor. Angel thought he could see Wes' hands shaking.

Listening carefully one more time and hearing the footsteps fading as they crossed the basement, Angel  
stepped closer to Wes and gestured at the glowing red fissure. "Any ideas what to expect with this thing?"

Wesley shook his head. "My guess is that the demons needed two sacrifices -- *living* sacrifices -- for  
whatever they were trying to accomplish, and that when this woman died, they went out in search of a  
replacement. But I can't know for sure. It's likely that without the sacrifice the spell will resolve itself  
within a certain amount of time. Either way, it seems clear that whatever they were attempting wasn't  
completed, so I doubt we have much to worry about."

"Well... good." That was a relief, anyway. Although Angel could tell he'd stopped bleeding, his side  
ached -- he thought he probably had some cracked ribs, himself. He took another step closer to  
Wesley, who was looking at the floor. "You okay?"

"What?" Wes glanced up and met his eyes. "Oh. Sorry. Yes, I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Well, it was... rather a surprise. I mean, I knew there was the possibility that we were going to find her, after  
what you said, but..." Wesley grinned ruefully. "I can't say I would have been sorry if I'd never laid eyes on her  
again, considering."

Angel nodded. "I get that."

Wesley seemed to shake himself off at that, and turned his attention to Angel. "What about you? Are you  
all right? Let me look at your side."

"Nah, I'm fine," Angel said, but stood still as Wesley unbuttoned the front of his torn shirt and ran warm  
hands across his ribcage.

"I didn't just mean physically," Wes said. "It was obviously a shock for you as well, seeing Connor like that."

He didn't want to think about it. "Yeah. Well." He cleared his throat. "So how's it look?"

"The bleeding's stopped," Wesley reported. "If you can refrain from doing anything stupid for the next  
hour or so, I'd imagine it will have healed over sufficiently."

"A whole hour?" The feel of Wes' hands on him made him shiver, and not in a bad way.

"Does it hurt?"

"What? Oh." He considered the question for a few seconds and then Wesley poked a little harder and he  
hissed. "Um, no?"

"Liar. Do you think they're broken, or just cracked?"

Angel clenched his jaw as Wesley's fingers probed the most painful spot. "Don't know," he said tightly.  
"Either way, they'll heal. One of the benefits of being a vampire."

"One of many, or so I've been told."

Angel couldn't resist pulling Wesley in for a kiss, even though the human's arm was trapped awkwardly  
between them. "Christ, you smell good. If I didn't know better I'd wonder if you'd been rolling around in blood."

"Thank you for *that* charming image," Wes said, pulling back. "In case you failed to notice, I have. Demon  
blood, but blood all the same. I'm not sure how to feel about the fact that you seem to find it so arousing."

He grinned and nuzzled Wes' throat. "Vampire, remember?"

"Speaking of which, I don't suppose you thought to bring any blood?"

"I don't usually carry it around in my back pocket."

Wesley's hand slipped around and patted Angel's ass like he was checking. "No, you don't seem to be  
carrying," he agreed.

"You're just not looking in the right place." Angel moved back, freeing Wesley's other arm, and then  
pressed himself forward again so that their bodies were touching. "See?"

"Ah yes. How silly of me." Wesley moved closer to meet him. "I wouldn't want to think you'd gone soft  
in your advanced age."

Before Angel could respond, there was a crackle like electricity and a brilliant flash of light from the  
fissure. Automatically he flung himself in front of Wes, not having any idea what was going to happen  
but damned sure whatever it was wasn't going to touch Wesley. The basement was suddenly much, much  
darker. "What the hell was that?" he asked.

"Well, from the looks of things, the spell's resolved itself. It might have been time-related."

Angel felt Wes' fingers brush against his arm and realized that Wesley couldn't see now that the glowing  
light from the fissure was gone. He grabbed for Wes' hand and held it. "I'm right here," he said needlessly.  
"You think it's done, then? I mean, it's not going to come back or anything?"

"No, I don't think the chances of that are very likely. I'd say we're in the clear. Figuratively."

"Okay, then let's get out of here."

Wesley nodded. Trust Wes to have a keen grasp on what a vampire could see in the dark. "I've left the  
crossbow somewhere over there," he said, pointing.

"Right." Angel let go of Wesley and went over to pick up the crossbow, then to the body of the demon  
where he retrieved his sword. With the crossbow tucked under one arm, he went back to Wes and took  
his hand again, leading him through the basement back toward the stairs.

"Should we phone Gunn and let him know that things here are taken care of? He might not have gotten  
far -- he could come back for us."

"Get out of the basement first, then call?"Angel suggested, guiding Wesley carefully. "Because I don't know  
about you, but outside is seeming pretty good right now."

Wes nodded, most of his concentration on walking when he couldn't see where he was going. His hand  
tightened on Angel's briefly in a way that made Angel smile.

The staircase was a bit tricky, but they managed it, and once they stepped out into the alleyway, the glow  
from a nearby streetlight was enough so that Wesley could see again.

"All right," Wes said, taking the crossbow back from Angel and reaching for his phone. "Let me give Gunn a  
quick ring and see where he is, and we'll..." There was a clatter of plastic on pavement as Wesley's flashlight  
slipped from his pocket and hit the ground.

Angel looked at it and then at Wes. "If you had the flashlight, why didn't you use it?"

"I don't suppose you'd believe me if I told you I'd forgotten about it?"

"Nope."

Wesley looked at him steadily. "Maybe I just wanted an excuse to touch you."

"You don't need an excuse," Angel told him. "You want to touch me, go right ahead."

"Yes, in private, behind closed doors." Wesley nodded like their conversation was something they'd  
already agreed on. "Elsewhere it's a different story, isn't it."

"Not because of me," Angel said, wondering where the hell this was coming from. It wasn't like they hadn't just  
been, for all intents and purposes, behind closed doors. There hadn't been anyone -- at least, not anyone alive,  
and he made a mental note to make another one of his anonymous phone calls to the local police -- in that  
basement to see them.

"I'm not blaming you." Now Wes didn't want to meet his eyes, and Angel didn't like the way that boded.

"What are you saying? You don't want to... be with me?" He felt numb.

Wesley immediately moved forward and pressed his body to Angel's, so unexpectedly that Angel was pushed  
backward against the wall of the building. "No, no, that's not what I'm saying." He kissed Angel fiercely, like  
he was trying to drive the point home.

"Then what?"

"I - " Wes shook his head. "I'm not sure. I know that I want to be with you, if it helps to hear it."

"Yeah." He leaned forward, intent on more kissing, when Wesley's phone rang.

"Blast," Wesley cursed, and answered it. "Yes?" He widened his eyes slightly at Angel. "Yes, we're fine... No, as  
it turns out the spell shut itself down, so we're in the clear."

Angel leaned his sword against the wall and took the crossbow from Wes' hand, putting it on the ground next  
to the sword. He let his hands roam over Wes' body, just enjoying the way Wesley moved into his touch.

"If you're not too tired, yes," Wesley was saying into the phone. "Yes, we can meet you back where -- "

"No," Angel said.

Wesley said, "Hang on," to Gunn and took the phone away from his ear, muffling the mouthpiece with his  
hand. "No, what?" he asked.

"No, I don't want him to come back and pick us up. Not tonight." His hands moved over Wes' body again in  
illustration.

"All right." Wes put the phone back to his ear. "No, we're going to find a place to stay. We'll either rent a  
car or have you come back in the morning to pick us up. We're sure. You and Fred get some sleep and we'll  
see you tomorrow." He hit the buttons that turned the phone off and pressed himself against Angel's body  
more firmly. "You don't want to go look for Connor?" he asked.

Angel kissed him teasingly before answering. "No. Wasn't even trying to find him and I did. I can find him  
again."

"*We* can," Wesley said. "You're sure?" His hand slid down the front of Angel's slacks and squeezed firmly.

"I'm sure. There's something else I want to do right now."

* * * * *

 

"Jesus," Angel choked out, as Wes' finger pushed slowly inside of him.

A warm tongue traced its way up his cock. "What would you say if I asked if I could fuck you?" Wesley's voice  
was warm, too.

Angel pushed himself up onto his elbows, bemused. "Are you asking?"

"Yes, I'm asking what you'd say." Wesley's tongue moved higher, circled the head of his cock wetly.

"I... yeah. That'd be... I'd say yes." He was so hard that he hurt -- at that point, he'd have said almost anything  
if Wes would just get him off. "You want to fuck me, Wesley?"

"Some day," Wes answered, and took Angel deep into his throat, crooking his finger in Angel's ass at the  
same time.

Angel fell back onto the pillows with a strangled groan, his hips rising at the same time, mentally praising  
himself for having insisted they stay the night in a strange city because *fuck* this was good and who knew  
when it might happen again.

And just as suddenly it wasn't happening *now.* Angel lifted his head with a noise of frustration to see what the  
hell Wes was playing at, only to find Wesley swinging a leg over to straddle him. Wes reached behind himself  
and his slick hand closed around Angel's cock, and then he was sinking down, impaling himself with a hiss, eyes  
narrowed. His palm on Angel's chest was slightly calloused and it felt like it belonged there.

"For now," Wes said, as if there'd been no pause in the conversation. "I was hoping you'd fuck *me.*"

Angel's hands went to Wesley's hips automatically, holding on. He stayed where he was without moving, waiting  
to see what Wesley had in mind. "I dunno. From the look of things you're the..." he made a little sound in the back  
of his throat as Wes shifted his position slightly, "one in charge here."

"Appearances can be deceiving," Wesley said. He lifted himself and then rotated his hips and sank down again,  
smiling slightly when Angel made another little noise. "Why would you be under the impression that I'm in charge?"

"Well, you're on top, for one thing," Angel pointed out, planting his feet on the cheap hotel mattress and thrusting  
up into Wes. "And we all listen to you, for another."

Wesley gasped and his eyes looked different, darker. "Angel," he managed to say.

"Yeah?"

"For god's sake, would you fuck me already?"

Angel grinned and thrust upward again, supporting Wes with his hands so that he could get a better angle  
before starting a steady pace. "That better?" he asked.

"Much," Wesley said. He braced himself with one hand next to Angel's side and leaned in to scrape his teeth  
across Angel's chest.

With a little growl of pleasure, Angel reached for Wes' cock. All the while his hips continued to move, fucking  
Wes good and hard, making him gasp, lifting Wes' knees right off the bed at the height of each thrust. The  
head of Wesley's cock was smeared with pre-come, and when Angel brushed his thumb over it Wes moaned.

"Angel... god yes, just like that."

Angel's hand on Wes' cock moved in a rhythm that was opposite to the motion of his hips. "Just like that," he  
agreed.

Wes moaned as the head of Angel's cock slid over his prostate again and again. "More," Wes said, his thighs  
trembling against Angel's. "Please, I --"

Sliding his thumb over the tip of Wes' cock a second time, Angel reached down with his other hand and grabbed  
Wes' balls, rolling them between his fingers.

Wes gave a little cry and shuddered on top of him, eyes closed. His cock twitched in Angel's grip. He seemed  
to be at a place beyond words. His body moved to meet Angel's thrusts with jarring force.

"That's it," Angel said. "There you go, Wes. Come on. I want to feel you. Come on..."

Wesley came. He bit down on his lip as he did, and the scent of the blood washing through the room was  
enough to make Angel come too, his hand on Wes' cock a slick blur of motion.

They collapsed together, Wes lying across Angel's chest as he fought to catch his breath. Still able to smell  
the blood, Angel pulled him up and kissed him, carefully, searching for every little drop, no matter how  
diluted. Christ, Wes tasted *amazing.* Angel wanted to latch onto Wes' lip and suck hard, to urge the  
wound to continue to bleed for his own benefit, but he contented himself with gentle licking. Wes submitted  
to it willingly, one hand coming up to tangle in Angel's hair.

Angel felt Wes' breath over his lips as he spoke. "You're hungry."

"No, you just taste good," Angel told him. It wasn't exactly a lie.

"We should make more of an effort to bring a supply of blood with us, especially when we have to travel so  
far away from the hotel." Wes sat up slightly and ran his hands along Angel's sides. "And especially when  
there's a chance that you might be injured."

"I'm fine," Angel protested, hitching up onto his elbows so that he could look at himself.

"You are," Wes agreed. "Still, we should be more careful." He moved off of Angel slowly and lay down next to  
him, stretching to kiss him one more time. "Although speaking of food, I should probably get some myself, at  
some point."

Wesley went to reach for his glasses on the bedside table, and because he was turned away Angel didn't  
catch it -- didn't catch *him* -- until it was almost too late. Luckily, he heard the sudden intake of breath,  
and managed to lurch forward in time to grab Wes around the waist with one arm as the first spasm of the  
vision hit, keeping Wesley from falling off the bed onto the floor.

"Okay," Angel said soothingly as Wes stiffened, the heels of both his hands pressed over his eyes. "Easy. I'm  
right here, I've got you."

Wesley spasmed again, and his foot came back hard and caught Angel in the shin, but Angel barely felt it  
because of the adrenaline pouring through him.

"Okay, Wes, it's okay."

Wes twitched and shuddered and then relaxed, most of the tension going out of him all at once. He groaned  
softly and turned in Angel's arms, pressing his face against Angel's chest.

Angel cradled him close, thrilling to the fact that Wesley was so willing to seek comfort from him even at  
the same time he worried. He ran his hand up and down Wes' back. "It's okay," he said again.

Pushing himself away, Wesley managed to get himself to a sitting position on the side of the bed, putting on  
his glasses and reaching for his clothes. "It's not," he said hoarsely. "It's Fred."

"What?" Automatically, Angel got up and started pulling on his own clothes, even while he tried to figure out  
how this was happening. "What's Fred?"

"Fred is who I saw in the vision, and she's not all right, and she's not going to *be* all right unless we can get  
there in time to stop it." Wesley stood up, shakily, and started to put on his shirt.

"Okay, take it easy and tell me what you saw," Angel said. He fastened his pants and looked around for his  
shoes as his fingers fumbled on his shirt buttons.

Wesley shot him a dark look. "I just *told* you," he spat out. "I saw Fred. We've been fucking around here and  
she's *dead.*"

Angel stopped, wondering where the hell Wesley had gone and who this was standing in his place. "She's  
not dead yet," he said, hoping this was true. "Whatever it is, we'll stop it."

"I'm going to ring the both of them, see if I can reach them," Wes said, taking his phone out of his pocket  
and gesturing toward the hotel phone sitting on the desk without so much as another glance at Angel. "We'll  
need a car. You can handle that, can't you?"

Shoving down the perfectly reasonable anger that didn't belong in this situation, Angel nodded as Wes  
started to push buttons. "Meet me downstairs," he said brusquely, and left the room without making sure  
that the door locked or even closed behind him. He stalked down the hallway and through the lobby to the  
parking lot, where he quickly identified a car in a darker area that had been sitting long enough to be cold.  
He broke the lock and got in, reaching under the dashboard to yank out a handful of wires and then separate  
the ones that would let him hotwire the car. It started with a quiet rumble and he drove it over to the front  
door, aware that it'd be bad if the owner came out and saw him, but figuring chances were slim that would happen.

Wesley came through the doorway, his expression grim."No answer," he said as he got into the car, tossing  
the crossbow and sword over into the back seat. He shut the door. "Not on Gunn's phone, and not on Fred's."

Angel glanced over his shoulder and pulled the car away from the curb and then onto the street, following  
the signs that guided him back toward the highway. He was annoyed at Wes' attitude, but tried to tell himself  
that the guy was just worried. As soon as that thought crossed his mind, *he* started to get a little bit  
worried. "What did you see?"

Wes shook his head briefly. "I saw her dead," he said, after a minute.

He accelerated the car as they merged onto the highway and then glanced over at Wesley, who looked  
tense and haunted. Angel thought about taking his hand, but with the way Wes had been acting he wasn't  
sure how that would be received. Instead, he offered, "It'll be okay. We'll stop it."

"That's right," Wesley said bitterly. "Because in your little fantasy world, everything always turns out fine,  
doesn't it. The good guys always win."

"Go to hell." Angel tried to restrain himself from growling the words, but didn't completely manage it. "You  
know that's not true."

"Do I?"

"You damned well better. You think in a fantasy world I wouldn't have wanted to raise my own fucking *son?*  
You think I don't remember every single time I've tried to do something good and failed?" Angel's hands  
tightened on the steering wheel. "Jesus, Wesley, I thought you knew me better than that."

"*I* think there are more important things to deal with right now than how well we know each other, which  
is obviously in question." Wesley swore suddenly and held a hand to his nose, pinching the bridge of it as he  
started bleeding again.

Angel leaned over and popped the glove compartment open, rifling around inside for some tissues or  
something, but Wes pushed his hand away irritably.

"Keep your hands on the wheel," Wesley said, and took over the job Angel'd been trying to do, finally  
coming up with a couple of rough paper napkins that he used to staunch the flow of blood. He lay his head  
back on the seat and waited.

After five minutes of silence, Angel asked, "So where are we headed?"

Wesley sighed. "I don't know. It was most definitely L.A., but... I don't know where."

"Okay. Should we check the hotel first? Or maybe Gunn's place? You want to try calling them again?"

"No, yes, and yes," Wesley said. "I don't understand why the Powers That Be would send me a vision that  
was so bloody ... it was like a close-up. How am I supposed to deduce *anything* from that sort of..." His  
voice, rough already, ground to a halt.

"What?" Angel asked finally.

"It was the spell," Wesley told him, and his voice was hard and unfamiliar again, like he was someone else.  
"There's no other reasonable explanation. I had to go muck with something I didn't know anything about, and this  
is the result."

"You didn't have a choice," Angel said.

"I bloody well did," Wes said fiercely. "And look where it got me. I chose myself over the safety of  
other people, and now Fred's going to die -- if she isn't already dead -- because I made the wrong  
decision."

Angel responded as calmly as he was able to. "She's not going to die. We're going to stop it. That's why  
the Powers sent the vision to you in the first place."

"Angel, while I'm sure your intentions are good, I don't need a pep talk from someone who doesn't  
understand." Wesley spoke with the finality of someone who was ending a conversation whether the  
other person was done or not. He put the bloodstained napkins into his pocket and took out his phone.  
Dialed one number, waited for a long time, then hung up and tried the other number. He put the phone  
back into his pocket without another word and leaned back, watching out the window as they drove.

Doing his best to keep his own eyes on the road instead of watching Wesley, Angel tried again to tell  
himself that Wes was just upset, that he was a convenient -- in fact, the only -- target, and that Wes  
wasn't really mad at *him.* It didn't help. He still wanted to hurt something, and he still wanted to kiss  
Wesley, and the only thing that didn't seem to be in question was that he was losing his fucking mind  
because what he *should* be thinking about was Fred.

When they were ten minutes from their exit off the highway, Wesley took out his phone and dialed again.  
He waited longer than he had before, and finally spoke into the phone. "Gunn? Fred? If either of you are  
there, please pick up. It's an emergency." He waited some more. "All right. If you get this message, be  
aware that Fred's in some sort of danger and please, be very careful. Call me." After he shut the phone off,  
he said, "They don't seem to be at the hotel, so let's try Gunn's."

"Okay." It was the first thing Angel had said in more than an hour, and the last thing he said for another  
fifteen minutes, until they were almost at Gunn's. "No idea what to expect?" he asked then, needing the  
clarification even though he knew the question wouldn't be well-received.

"If there was anything at all that might help, I'd have told you," Wes said shortly.

Angel spotted Gunn's truck and pulled up behind it. Both doors were closed and everything looked  
normal, but as soon as he and Wesley got out, Angel could smell blood in the air. He moved quickly around  
to the front of the truck, and then back onto the sidewalk beside it. He could still smell the blood -- just a faint  
tang, but there. "Check inside," he told Wesley, and knelt down, trying to concentrate on the scent to see if it  
would lead him anywhere. There was vamp dust in a wide circle in one spot -- or maybe two -- but the blood  
scent didn't seem to guide him in any direction in particular.

As he started toward the building where Gunn's apartment was, he heard Wesley call his name, and his  
voice sounded... not rough or hoarse, though it was both of those, but... empty.

Angel broke into a sprint, shoved the door open and went down the hall, and stopped dead in the  
doorway of Gunn's apartment. And that was ironic or at least twisted or something, because Gunn  
was sitting on the floor with Fred cradled in his arms, and by the way her limbs were all loose and  
sprawled he could tell she was. Dead.

It felt like all the air went out of the room as the realization swept over him -- a silent implosion like a  
vacuum -- but that was twisted too because he didn't need to breathe, hadn't needed to breathe for  
more than two centuries if you didn't count that one day that had effectively been erased anyway. They  
were too late, and she was dead. Wesley'd been right about that.

Wesley was standing facing Gunn, and Angel thought he could see him trembling. Wes sank down onto  
the floor next to Gunn and reached a hand out to touch Fred. Gunn just watched him, let him.

"Is she - ?" Wesley asked. Angel could hear the hope in his voice.

"No. I'd have taken her -- or called an ambulance, or something. If there'd been any point." Gunn shifted  
his grip on her. She looked fragile and broken in his arms.

"What happened?" Angel asked, and both of them glanced up at him in mild surprise, like they hadn't  
realized he was there.

Gunn blinked. "It was a fluke," he said. "Just a random... we've survived hundreds of 'em." His fingers  
combed through Fred's hair gently. "She lived for years in that cave -- all those Pyleans calling her a  
cow and using her like a slave and a -- did you know they raped her?"

"No," Wesley said, low and horrified.

"Yeah, well, they did. Thought she was nothing but an animal. Didn't stop them from using her." Gunn  
swallowed, his eyes never leaving Fred's face. "She was so strong, you know?"

"Yeah," Angel said. "She was."

Wes touched her again, his hand brushing against Gunn's, maybe deliberately, maybe by accident. He  
pushed back her hair, just enough to expose her throat and the deep wound there. "Vampires?" he  
asked quietly.

"Yeah. They... we just got out of the truck and they were..." Gunn stopped. His hand went up to his own  
head absently. "I staked one right off, but the other one hit me with... something, I don't know, and I  
was on the ground. It only felt like a few seconds. And she was... I staked the second one, and it was too  
late. She was looking at me and her eyes were -- "

Now Wesley's hand was on Gunn's shoulder, and then he shifted over behind him and looked at the back  
of his head. "Angel? Can you get a cloth or something so that I can clean this?"

Gunn didn't really react as Wesley gently tended to the cut on his head with the damp washcloth  
Angel retrieved from the bathroom. At no time did his hold on Fred's body seem to loosen in the  
slightest. His eyes were dull and he looked exhausted, which he probably was, and shocky, which  
he definitely was.

"Gunn," Wesley said softly. "It's time to let her go now."

"Can't," Gunn answered.

"Yes, you can. It's all right. You did everything you could, and now it's time to say goodbye." Wes  
looked at Angel for support.

Angel stepped closer and squatted down next to Gunn. "Wesley's right. Let me take her. Just for a little while."

"Can't," Gunn repeated. "I promised her I'd make sure nothin' happened to her."

Gesturing to Wesley to follow, Angel moved away and said, "Any ideas?"

"I really think he ought to get some rest," Wesley said, refusing to meet Angel's eyes. "There's nothing  
we can do for her now."

"I know. Just... tell me what you want me to do."

"If I can get him to agree to let go of her, could you take her... out of here?"

"Where do you want me to take her?"

"At this point I really don't care, Angel. And all usual behavior to the contrary, one would think you'd be  
able to come up with some ideas on your own." Wes sounded exasperated.

"Fine." It was easier to agree with him than to fight with him, that was for sure.

Gradually, Wesley managed to coax Gunn into letting go of Fred's body. Angel wrapped her in a blanket  
and took her out to the back seat of the stolen car, grateful again that it was so late and likely no one would notice.

He drove to the Hyperion and carefully carried Fred's lifeless body upstairs to her room. She'd felt safe there,  
he reasoned, so it made sense that it was a good place for her to be now. Angel lay her on the bed and then  
sank down to sit on the edge of it, for the first time letting himself feel the wave of sorrow and guilt that was  
never any further away than the next high tide. She'd gone through so much, and tried so hard to come out  
from hiding, and now...

Angel didn't have tears for her. He wasn't sure if this meant he was selfish, or empty. If it meant that he  
was beyond being able to care enough. Doyle had urged him to stay in touch with people, to make  
connections, and he'd tried. Well, sometimes. This was where he ended up every time: Doyle. Darla. Connor.  
Cordelia. Fred. This was where *they* ended up.

He had to force himself to get to his feet. He drove the stolen car a couple of blocks away and left it there, then  
got his own and went back to Gunn's apartment. The door was still slightly ajar from before, and he spared a  
moment's thought to the fact that he should have closed it. The apartment was quiet, only the soft hum of the  
refrigerator in the kitchen breaking the silence.

Angel sat on the couch, leaned forward, and rested his head in his hands. He tried not to think about  
anything because there wasn't anything that didn't suck.

Some time later, there was a noise from the hallway, and he looked up to find Wesley standing just inside  
the living room.

Before he could even open his mouth, Wesley said, "Whatever it is you're thinking of saying, Angel... don't. Just  
don't." Wes stayed where he was.

"What if it's 'How's Gunn?'" he asked finally. "Can I say that?"

"I think he's asleep," Wesley said, ignoring the second question and rubbing his hand over his face tiredly.

Angel stood up and gestured at the couch. "You should sit down." When Wes didn't respond other than  
to look at him, he tried, "I mean... if you wanted to, you could. Sit down." And then, "You look like hell."

"Of course I look like hell," Wes snapped. "One of my best friends was killed tonight and the other is  
grieving her loss, and I'm to blame for the entire thing."

"Okay, first of all, this is *not* your fault," Angel told him. "You had a vision and we came as quick as we  
could. We were too late. I don't see anything in there that makes this your responsibility."

"It *became* my responsibility when I inherited the visions. It's my job to interpret them and to stop  
what I see from coming to pass. If you aren't capable of understanding that relatively simple concept,  
then I'd suggest you're in the wrong business." Wesley brushed past him and sank down onto the couch  
wearily.

"I didn't choose this, Wesley, any more than you did. And stopping the stuff you see in the visions from  
happening is my responsibility, not yours. Much as you might like it to be otherwise, we're stuck with  
each other."

Wes glanced up at that, his expression holding a new layer of guilt. "I'm not -- Angel, I'm sorry."

Angel stepped closer, not sure what Wesley was apologizing for. "It's okay," he said.

"No," Wes said. "It's not." He got back up before Angel could tell him not to, and closed the remaining  
space between them in two steps, moving right into Angel's arms. "I'm sorry," he said again.

"It's okay," Angel said, sliding his arm around Wesley's waist. "Cut yourself some slack -- you've been  
through a lot."

"We all have," Wesley pointed out. "All the more reason why we shouldn't tear into each other at the first  
opportunity."

Angel held him close, feeling Wes' heartbeat against his own chest, feeling Wes' breathing. With  
reluctance, because he didn't want to move from his current position if it meant letting go of Wes, he  
suggested, "Come on, sit down."

They moved together to the couch and sat, Angel's arm thrown over Wesley's shoulder comfortingly.  
Wes leaned into him, letting Angel support some of his weight.

"You could try to get some sleep?" Angel asked.

"I'm tired," Wesley agreed, and took off his glasses, handing them to Angel, who put them on the end  
table. "But I'm not sure I could sleep."

"Close your eyes." Angel pulled him closer.

A minute or two of silence, and then Wes said, "She's dead."

"Yeah."

"I should have been able to do something."

"You did everything you could," Angel said. "What else do you think you should have done?"

"Been here," Wesley said. "I should have been here."

More quiet.

Wesley took a deep breath, and Angel felt a little shudder go through him. "S'okay," he told Wes.

"It's not," Wesley said. "It's not okay."

Angel didn't know what to say. "Okay. I mean, no, it's not. But... I'm here. I know this is... but you're not alone  
in this, Wesley."

Wes pressed closer, seeking more comfort than Angel thought he knew how to give, but damned if he wasn't  
gonna give it his best shot. "Tell me," Wes said quietly.

"Tell you wha -- oh." Angel nodded, running his hand up and down the curve of Wes' shoulder. "You're not  
alone," he repeated awkwardly, trying not to think of Fred, alone back at the hotel. "I'm here. I know that  
doesn't really help, but..."

"No, of course it helps," Wesley said. His fingers were playing idly with one of the buttons on Angel's shirt,  
not trying to undo it, just tilting it back and forth. "Of course it helps," he said again.

Unable to stop himself, Angel pressed a kiss to Wes' hair, breathing in the scent of him, the salty prickle of  
near-tears hiding just under his eyelids, the blood and the... he took a deep breath, deliberately, to stop  
himself from sliding into game face. The curse of being a vampire -- you loved someone, you wanted to  
eat him. You loved someone... and there it was. He hadn't wanted to admit it, not in so many words, but it  
was right there. He was in love with Wesley.

Angel held Wes closer and closed his eyes.

 

* * * * *

 

"Where is she?"

Angel blinked tiredly -- he must have been sleeping, hadn't even heard Gunn get up. He'd spent at least an  
hour just holding Wes, who'd been exhausted but had fought sleep like crazy only to lose and slip into a  
restless doze. Then Angel had heard Gunn moving around in his bedroom -- he'd eased out from under Wes  
and gone to check, but Gunn had still been asleep. As a result, when Gunn came out and woke Angel, he and  
Wes were sleeping on either side of the lumpy couch. All innocent.

He realized Gunn had asked him a question. "What?"

"Where's Fred?"

Angel stood up slowly, trying not to jostle the couch in the hopes that Wes might be able to get some more  
sleep. "I took her back to the hotel. Wes thought... well, he thought it would be better for you. For her not to  
be here."

Something around Gunn's eyes, a bleakness, reminded Angel of way back when then other man had had  
to kill his sister. "I'll have to call her folks," Gunn said. The small gauze bandage on his scalp looked  
startlingly white in contrast to his skin. "What do we do about...?"

"Yeah." Angel'd thought about this already. "I know some people. Cops. They'll take her to the -- " He didn't  
want to say 'morgue,' so instead he finished, "They'll take care of her, until you decide what you want to do."

"I've gotta call her folks," Gunn said again, like he'd already forgotten saying it the first time, or maybe like he  
was trying to convince himself. "How the hell am I supposed to tell them that she's dead? How am I supposed  
to do that?"

Angel didn't know what to say.

"I'm so sorry," Wesley said, and they both turned to look at him as he sat up, bleary-eyed, reaching for  
his glasses.

"Not your fault," Gunn said.

Wesley shook his head. "Actually, that's not entirely true."

Gunn took a half-step back, tilted his own head to one side like he was trying to see something that wasn't  
quite there, like he was waiting for an apparition to materialize. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking," Wes said, resignedly, "about the vision that I had last night, just before... before Fred was killed."

Unable to let this happen without at least making an effort to explain, Angel interrupted. "We tried to call.  
And we got here as soon as we could, it was just..."

"Too late," Wesley finished, shooting Angel a look that might have been disgust, a look that made his  
stomach hurt. "I didn't get here in time, and I wasn't able to warn you. I... Gunn, I take full responsibility  
for what happened. It was my fault."

Blinking at the way Wesley had just removed him from both the conversation and the situation in one  
swoop, Angel stood and waited to see what would happen.

Gunn shook his head. "You weren't the one that killed her -- the vamps did that. It wasn't your fault."

"But I was the one who -- "

"It *wasn't* your fault," Gunn repeated. "And if you keep saying it was, I'm gonna have to kick your sorry  
ass." The threat sounded pretty empty to Angel.

It was obvious that Wes didn't believe for a second that it wasn't his fault, but he just nodded. "What  
happens now?" he asked quietly, giving up his own power in the situation as easily as he'd taken away  
Angel's a minute before.

Gunn sighed. "Angel makes a phone call, I guess. And then I do. I just..." He shifted on his feet, like he  
didn't know what to do with himself. "I want to kill the bastards that killed her, you know? A little  
good, old fashioned revenge. But I already did. Doesn't feel like it was enough, though."

"We should be there, when they..." Angel didn't figure he needed to finish. "I'll call on the way over.  
I'll make sure they know that you're the one to make any decisions that need to be made."

"Yeah. Or her folks." Gunn looked down at himself, still wearing the clothes he'd been in the night  
before. They didn't have a heck of a lot of blood on them.

Angel moved closer, hesitantly. He and Gunn had never been the types to do more than whack each  
other on the shoulder a couple of times -- a manly, casual pseudo-embrace that didn't allow for the  
touching of body parts other than arms and upper chest. And it was obvious that Gunn wasn't looking  
for comfort. Still, Angel reached out and touched his arm. "I'm sorry," he said.

Gunn nodded, but didn't look up. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah. Me too."

 

* * * * *

 

They waited for Gunn to take a shower, and then the three of them headed back to the Hyperion, with  
Angel crouched in the back seat under a blanket. From his sheltered position he managed to call the guy he  
knew at the police station, asking him to send a car to pick up Fred's body. The guy knew enough not to ask  
any questions, and once he'd figured out that they were talking about a friend of Angel's his voice went  
down an octave. He said someone would be by in about an hour, expressed his sympathy, and waited  
patiently for Angel to hang up the phone first.

Angel was glad that the drive to the hotel wasn't a long one, because Wes' silence was getting on his  
nerves before they were halfway there. He'd gotten over the feeling -- well, *mostly* gotten over it --  
that Wes was trying to punish him, and he wasn't unaware of the irony that he wanted Wes to talk about  
it when he himself was a pretty big fan of silence. But he didn't like doubting how well he and Wes knew  
each other.

They managed to get up to Fred's room -- they all seemed to want to see her again -- without exchanging  
more than a few words. Wes stood next to the bed, looking down at Fred's pale face, his own expression  
set in granite. He seemed ready to stand there all day. Gunn sat on the side of the bed, holding Fred's hand  
between his own even though Angel knew it had to be cold and stiff by now.

He wandered over to the far wall and ran his fingers over the numbers and symbols scribbled hastily  
there. He hadn't realized that Fred had gone back to writing on the walls; he wondered when that had  
happened. Gunn must have known.

Maybe Angel didn't know anyone as well as he thought he did.

He looked at Fred's face one last time, a long look, said, "I'm just... gonna..." and fled into the hallway.

He hadn't been out there for very long when Wesley came out, closing the door behind himself.

"I thought Charles might like a few minutes alone with her," Wes said quietly.

Angel thought he could read what was there on Wes' face. "I know why you're so upset," he said.

"And why is that?"

"You still had feelings for her."

Wes looked at him, puzzled. "I beg your pardon?"

"That's pretty much the last thing I want you begging me for," Angel said. "You're upset that Fred died  
because it means there won't be any second chances for the two of you."

"You think I wanted to have a relationship with Fred?"

"I know you did," Angel said flatly. "Just because a lot of stuff happened that night at the ballet, doesn't  
mean I don't know what went on."

"Angel, that was nearly nine months ago. Do you seriously believe that I've been pining away for Fred  
all this time?"

Angel narrowed his eyes. "I think part of you has, yeah."

"And what about me?" Wes asked, his voice low and controlled. "Am I supposed to be assuming that it's  
really Cordelia you've been wanting, while you've been fucking me?"

Angel was startled. "That's different." And it was. He'd loved Cordy, sure, but... well, he'd finally realized  
that he hadn't been *in* love with her.

"How is it different, exactly?"

"Because, well... Cordy's gone. I've known for a long time that she wasn't coming back."

"Whereas Fred's been here, so clearly I was just biding my time."

Angel could tell from Wesley's expression that he'd been caught being incredibly stupid.

"Go away," Wes said.

"What?"

Wesley made an impatient gesture down the hallway. His voice was deadly quiet. "I said go. If that's  
honestly what you think of me, that I'd be with you, that I'd... *use* you, somehow, to fill a void that  
Fred's choosing to be with Gunn left, then I've nothing more to say to you."

Angel blinked. Okay, this really wasn't where he'd seen this conversation going, not that he'd had a lot  
of time to think about it in advance. "But I -- "

"*Go.*" The look on Wes' face made it clear that he wasn't messing around.

"Wes... I didn't mean to... I mean, can't we talk about this?" Shit. *Shit.* He should have just kept his  
mouth shut.

Wesley shook his head. "No. Not right now, at any rate. I need... some time to think."

Backing away slowly, Angel nodded, hoped he was managing to look reasonable because God knew  
it felt like his fucking heart was breaking. "Okay. I'm... I'll be in my room. When -- if you want to talk.  
And... Wes?"

There wasn't an answer, just a steady look.

"I'm sorry," Angel said, and left.

 

* * * * *

 

Angel was hungry, but he didn't want to feed. He was angry, but he didn't want to break things. He felt  
broken enough already. Smashing up other stuff wouldn't help.

He wasn't sure what had happened. He couldn't understand how everything had gone so wrong, so fast.  
And poor Fred; she was getting lost in the shuffle because at this moment the only thing Angel could  
care about was Wesley, and the fact that for all he knew he'd just lost him, for good. And probably  
because of his own stupidity. But... hadn't Wes wanted Fred?

For what felt like a long time, Angel stood in the middle of his bedroom, letting the silence seep into him.  
After a while, he realized that he stunk of death. He thought it was from the demons' blood, some of which  
was still on him. He should have changed last night when he'd brought Fred back to the hotel, but at the  
time he hadn't been able to think about that.

Well. Not like he had anything else to do -- might as well take care of it now. Moving slowly, feeling the  
twinge of sore ribs as he took off his shirt, Angel went into the bathroom and started the shower running.  
Water as hot as he could stand it. He stripped, stepped in, and let it beat down on him, cleaning off the  
filth and stink of the night before.

"Angel." Wes' voice, low beneath the sound of the running water.

He'd been so distracted he hadn't even heard Wesley come in. Angel closed his eyes, and waited for  
whatever Wes was going to say.

Soft sounds of clothes being shed. The shower curtain rustled, and then Wesley's body brushed against his own.

"I thought... you needed some time," Angel said, trying again to be reasonable, fighting against the hope  
that rose in his chest when he felt Wes' arms wrap around him. He kept his eyes closed.

"It's been five minutes," Wesley said.

"Okay. I guess I was picturing it being longer. Not that I'm complaining..."

Wes' lips touched his, and he couldn't help but lean forward eagerly. "Felt like a lifetime to me," Wesley said.

"You're... do you think you were right?" Angel's mouth was touching Wes' as he spoke. "About us not  
knowing each other?"

"No," Wes said immediately. "I -- Angel, look at me."

Angel opened his eyes inches from Wesley's blue ones. "I know I can't understand what you're going  
through," he said, brokenly. "I want to."

Wes kissed him. "I know," he said. "I know you want to, and that's... well, it means a great deal to me."

"I -- you know that I care about you, Wes. I -- "

"Shh," Wes said, and Angel felt Wes' hands urging him to turn around. Wes' arms wrapping around him,  
holding him, hands stroking across Angel's chest and belly. Wes' lips against his shoulder. "Shh. It's all  
right."

But Angel didn't want Wesley telling him it was all right, because last night *he'd* been the one trying to say  
that and Wes had told him that it wasn't. Fred was gone, and Connor was gone, and Cordelia was gone. For  
all he knew, Wes was next. Wesley's hands were still stroking over his skin, soothingly. Angel wasn't sure  
he wanted to be soothed. "Don't," he said.

Wes' hands stilled, but didn't go away. "Don't what?" he asked.

"Don't try to make me feel better," Angel said, his voice harsher than he'd meant it to be.

"No, of course not," Wesley said, his hands withdrawing now, one completely, the other resting at  
Angel's waist. His voice was calm. "Because you should suffer at all times, isn't that right."

Angel wasn't angry, or at least he tried to tell himself that. They were back into  
not-understanding-each-other territory now, and it wasn't a place he wanted to be.

"Have you forgotten about your happiness no longer being an issue?" Wesley continued, his hand still  
there on Angel's skin, like an anchor in a sea of running water and despair. "Or is just that you prefer  
your life this way? Because I... care about you, Angel. And I'm not content to sit back and watch you  
torture yourself."

"Don't do this," Angel said.

"Don't what? Don't care about you?" Wesley turned him back around now, facing him. Wes' eyes flashed  
with determination, and his hair was scattered with fine diamond-droplets of water. "Don't call you on it  
when you're being unreasonable? Tell me what it is that I'm not supposed to do!"

With a harsh groan of defeat, Angel grabbed onto Wes and shoved him up against the slick tile wall.  
He could hear as well as feel Wesley's gasp at the suddenness of the embrace, could feel Wes' half-hard  
cock against his thigh. "Don't," he said, into Wes' shoulder, "make me love you more."

Then Wesley's arms were around him again, tightly this time, holding him up. "It's all right," Wes said, and  
this time Angel almost believed him. "I'm here, it's all right."

There were so many things that Angel could have said in response to that, but he refused to say any of  
them, just gripped onto Wes like he might disappear any second. He realized that he was probably  
holding on too tightly, and made an effort to loosen his grip.

"You're not going to break me," Wes said.

Angel still couldn't speak.

"Angel?" Wesley moved as if to pull back, and Angel let him. Wes' hands were on Angel's face now,  
forcing him to meet his eyes. "I love you too."

Speechless for a whole different reason now, Angel shook his head, then managed to choke out, "Don't.  
You don't have to -- "

"You," Wesley interrupted him, "are unbearably stubborn. Do you honestly believe I'd tell you that if I  
didn't mean it?"

Something close to a sob escaped him, and then Angel was kissing Wes. Kissing him like he might never  
get the chance again, and Wes was kissing him back, just as frantically, like he wanted Angel just as  
much as Angel wanted him.

"Please," Angel said, with his mouth on Wes'. He wasn't sure who he was saying it to. "God, *please*..."

"Shh," Wes said. "Shh, it's all right." His hands were soothing again, but this time it felt right. Now  
Angel wanted to be comforted. He wanted Wes to touch him and make him feel better, to drive away  
some of the loneliness. Wes reached around him and turned off the water, then slid the shower curtain  
open and reached for a towel. He wrapped it around Angel, patting gently, trying to dry him off.  
"Come on," he said, kissing Angel again with a shower-water-slick mouth. "Come with me."

There was nothing Angel wanted to do more. He followed Wes -- still naked and covered with water  
droplets than ran down over his skin like rain down a windowpane -- into the bedroom, and let  
himself be pushed down onto the bed. Greedily, Angel's hands gripped onto Wes, trying to pull him down too.

Wesley just said, "Shh. Let me."

"But I -- "

Wes gave him a stern look. "Angel. Would you bloody well shut up and just lie there?"

Under other circumstances, that tone would definitely drawn a grin from him, but at that moment  
Angel just wanted Wes and didn't care how he got him.

The towel felt rough now, as Wesley used it to dry Angel off. He started with Angel's hair, moved  
down across his chest, and then skipped over his groin in favor of drying Angel's legs.

It wasn't until Angel was almost completely dry that Wesley climbed onto the bed and started to  
kiss him. Not just on the mouth, either. He spent a long time kissing Angel's throat until Angel  
moaned softly, and then brought his mouth to Angel's chest. One nipple and then the other, using his  
fingers to pinch whichever one his mouth was neglecting. Angel's hips were moving restlessly, but  
he was also doing his best to do what Wes had instructed -- to lie there quietly. The quiet part got harder  
as Angel did, though.

When Wes brought his mouth down to Angel's cock, it was impossible to stay quiet. Wes took his time,  
his tongue tracing Angel's length repeatedly until Angel was writhing, uncontrollable. His hands were  
in Wes' hair. "*Fuck,*" Angel said finally, thrusting upward. Helpless. "Wes, *please.*"

Wesley smiled and reached for the lube. He squeezed some out onto his fingers and quickly spread  
it over Angel's cock, then lay down on the bed beside him, pulling Angel to face him as he did.  
"Now," Wes suggested, and the word had barely left his lips before Angel was up and over him,  
sliding into that incomparable human heat that wrenched a groan from him.

He was already too close, too desperate, to take his time. Wes was willing and eager underneath  
him, jerking his hips upward to meet Angel's thrusts. His hands twisted in the small of Angel's back,  
urging him to continue. Running his tongue across the skin of Wes' throat, Angel shuddered,  
wracked with temptation. Shouldn't take chances like this, not when he was hungry, not when...  
"Wes," he whimpered, and came so hard that everything went away.

Angel didn't move until Wes shifted under him, and even then it was only to adjust his own weight.  
His face was buried in the curve of Wes' shoulder. Wes' pulse beat against his lower lip, and he  
couldn't stop trembling.

"Angel?" Wes sounded worried.

He lifted his head and kissed Wes, hard. Hunger was a deep gnawing pain in his gut -- he hadn't  
even realized the extent of it until just that second.

Wes kissed him back, gentling the contact carefully, keeping Angel sane. "When was the last time  
you fed? Did you have anything last night -- this morning -- when you came back here?"

Angel shook his head. He pulled out of Wes and moved to sit at the end of the bed, trying to put a  
little distance between them. Any of the excuses he could have given, no matter how true, were  
going to sound stupid, so he tried to answer the first question instead. "Um... yesterday morning?"

"Well, no wonder," Wes said exasperatedly, getting up and heading into the kitchen without  
bothering to put on any clothes. Feeling guilty, but also just damned tired, Angel sat and watched  
as Wes got out some blood and heated it up, then brought the mug back to the bed and pressed it  
into Angel's hands. "Drink that. And remember to take better care of yourself in the future."

He'd never gotten totally comfortable with feeding in front of people, not even Wes and Cordy, but  
Angel forced himself to swallow the blood down quickly as Wes stood there and watched. As soon  
as it flowed down and settled in his stomach, he felt better.

"More?" Wesley asked.

Angel nodded, but got up to get it himself. "Thanks. I guess I didn't realize..."

Wes followed him. "Under the circumstances it's no surprise that you were distracted."

"Yeah." Angel put a second mug full of blood into the microwave and pushed the buttons, then stared  
at it bleakly as it went around and around on the little turntable.

Slipping an arm around Angel's waist, Wes nuzzled the back of his shoulder where his tattoo was, and  
then just stood there, waiting with him. Angel could feel his warm breath with each exhale.

"Where's Gunn?" Angel asked.

"The people from the coroner's office arrived. He went with them, and he'll phone us when he's done  
with the paperwork. I offered to go with him, but he said... he thought it was something he ought to do alone."

Angel brushed his thumb over the back of Wes' hand. "You think he's gonna be okay?"

"Yes," Wes said. "He will. We all will."

Angel closed his eyes and listened to Wesley's breathing. It was slow and steady.

Wes' lips were gentle on his shoulder blade. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

The microwave beeped and stopped, the light going out, but Angel didn't reach for the door handle.  
He was too comfortable where he was, with Wes touching him. "Um... yeah, some." Not much, that  
was for sure.

Wes' hand patted his hip comfortingly, and then he stepped around Angel to open the microwave. "Go  
sit down. Your body's still trying to heal; you should let it." He took the mug out and led Angel back  
to the bed. "Sit down," he repeated. Angel sat. "You were right," he said quietly, as Angel drank.  
"Neither of us is alone in this. I think it's best we try to accept that and stop being so stubborn. *Both* of us."

Angel set the already-empty mug down on the floor and wiped his mouth self-consciously. "You  
mean we're stuck with each other, so might as well get used to the idea."

"No," Wesley said, clearly exasperated with this train of thought. "I mean we care for... we *love* each  
other, and therefore we're a team. Regardless of the visions, or your possible shanshu, or the Powers That Be."

Angel met Wes' eyes. "Yeah?"

Sitting down next to him, Wes rested the back of his hand on Angel's thigh, palm up. "Yes. Don't  
you agree?"

Angel reached out a finger and traced the lines on Wes' palm, watching as Wes' fingers twitched at  
the delicate touch. "I don't..." he hesitated, and then went on, "I don't, you know... feel like I deserve this."

"That's because you're an idiot," Wes said firmly, with a little smile. He leaned in and kissed Angel, not  
seeming to care if he tasted like blood, and then looked at him with a very serious expression. "This has  
to stop, Angel. I understand that there are things you need to do, but you can't continue to do them if you're  
set on making yourself miserable. *That's* what you don't deserve."

He gave Wes his best attempt at a smile. "Stubborn, huh?"

"Unbearably." Wesley raised his eyebrows slightly, like he was trying to make a point. "But not alone."

"Right," Angel said, slowly, trying to convince himself that it was true. "Not alone." And then he kissed  
Wesley with something like gratitude.

It felt like love.

 

* * * * *

 

Angel couldn't believe that he was at the airport again.

Of course, this time it was to send Gunn off to Texas, with Fred's body in the cargo hold of the plane. They were  
all talking around it, like if they didn't say the words out loud, it wouldn't be true.

"You're sure you've everything you need?" Wesley asked Gunn for what had to be the fifth time.

Gunn rolled his eyes slightly, and something about the motion brought what looked like peace to his face, as  
if the normality of annoyance made him feel better. "*Yes,*" he said, also for the fifth time. "And if it turns out  
I don't, I'll call you and have you send it."

Wes looked guilty, his gaze dropping to the flat nubby carpet under their feet. They were standing over  
near the wall, next to a row of chairs that were bolted to the floor, but none of them had made any  
attempt to sit down. "I'm sorry," he said. "I suppose I don't know what to say."

Without thinking, Angel reached out and touched Wes' hand, hoping to comfort him. And without thinking,  
Wes' fingers closed around his... for a few seconds. Then, as if realizing what they'd done, and in front of  
whom, Wesley let go and straightened up.

Gunn was watching the two of them with a funny expression. "So that's how it is."

Angel glanced at Wes apologetically, then looked at Gunn again. "Yeah. Well..."

Wesley tried. "You see..."

"Look, it's cool," Gunn said. "I knew something was going on, I just couldn't figure out what it was."

"We wanted to tell you," Wes said, looking like he wanted to move closer to Gunn but was holding  
himself back by sheer force of will. "We... just weren't sure how -- "

"What about the curse?" Gunn interrupted. The tension in his shoulders was obvious, and he'd rocked  
back onto his heels. "That whole 'getting a happy will turn you into Angelus' thing?"

Angel nodded and tried to look sheepish. It wasn't hard. "Um, right. Well, it turns out that's not really  
an issue anymore."

"Because you're still in love with that Buffy girl?"

"No," Wesley cut in. Angel couldn't help but wonder if it was because he didn't want to get into the  
details. Or maybe he was afraid of hearing that Angel really *was* still in love with Buffy. "Because  
when it happened the last time -- when Angel lost the soul -- the spell to return it was done  
differently. He's not going to lose it again, no matter what the circumstances. It's permanent."

Gunn didn't look convinced. "You sure?"

"Absolutely." Wes had a talent for looking someone right in the eye that made it easy to believe that he  
knew what he was talking about.

Wes and Gunn stood, eyes locked, for a few very long seconds, and then Gunn relaxed a little bit and  
nodded. "Okay." He glanced down at the handful of papers he was holding. "That's what Fred wouldn't  
tell me, huh."

"Probably," Wes admitted softly. "She... told us that she knew, that night in the restaurant. Did she...?"

"Say anything?" Gunn shook his head. "I guessed there was something she wasn't telling me. She was  
all nervous, you know, trying to distract me? But she wouldn't say what it was."

Wes took a step closer to Gunn and lay a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. We should have told you  
sooner. There's no excuse."

"It's cool," Gunn repeated, standing there without moving, letting Wesley touch him. He glanced at  
Angel too, including him in the discussion. "I mean, I should have figured, you know? Not like you  
two haven't been all touchy-feely for a while now."

Angel blinked. He'd thought they were being pretty subtle.

"Yes, well," Wesley said, and Angel could see the slight flush on his skin. "How do you... that is, are you..."

Gunn reached out with his other hand and punched Wes' shoulder, very lightly. "Long as there  
aren't gonna be any surprise visits from Angelus, I'm fine with it," he said. His expression  
clouded. "Wish she woulda told me, though."

"She wasn't sure how you'd react," Wes explained quietly, putting his hands in his pockets like  
he was trying to look smaller. "She didn't want to give anything away until we were ready." He  
glanced at Angel, his eyes dark and troubled.

A voice over the loudspeaker announced the boarding of Gunn's flight just then, and Gunn bent  
down, shoving some of the papers in his hand into the carry-on bag that had been sitting at his  
feet. When he stood back up, his jaw had that same set to it that Angel remembered from the  
night Alonna had died.

"I'll call," Gunn said.

"Do that," Wesley urged, his voice still not sounding quite normal. "When you arrive safely,  
and... if you need anything..."

Gunn nodded. "Thanks."

The three of them walked together toward the gate, and Angel and Wes stood off to one side  
as Gunn went through the line, showed his boarding pass to the flight attendant, and then  
finally turned to go.

It was Angel he spoke to. "Take care of him," he said, nodding at Wesley.

"I will."

Wesley stepped in closer, his side pressed to Angel's as they watched Gunn walk off down the  
corridor.

 

* * * * *

 

Angel waited until they were back in the SUV, and then prevented Wes from starting the car with one hand  
over his. "You okay?"

The breath Wes took was shaky. "Yes. I hadn't... well. I hadn't anticipated that, not on top of..." He looked at  
Angel helplessly, that same dark-eyed look that had made Angel want to kiss him right there in the  
terminal, in front of Gunn and anyone else who happened to be looking.

This time there wasn't any reason not to. Angel drew Wes close -- as close as he could in the  
confines of the front seat -- and kissed him, soft and open-mouthed and full of what he hoped  
might be comfort. "It's gonna be okay," he said, not unaware that they'd been spending an awful  
lot of time lately repeating those words to each other.

"I suppose I keep hoping that things will go back to normal," Wes said, rubbing his cheek against  
Angel's, one warm hand at the nape of Angel's neck. "It's a bit difficult to remember that there isn't  
any such thing."

"Not for us," Angel agreed, and kissed Wes again. "Spend the night with me?"

"Yes," Wesley said. "If nothing else, it can be said that I learn from my mistakes." He pressed his  
lips to Angel's one last time, and then smiled a little bit and started the car.

"Nah, that was when you should have let *me* spend the night with *you,*" Angel reminded him as  
the SUV backed out of the parking space and into the lot. "This is different."

"The way masturbation doesn't count as sex?" Wes asked. He glanced in the rearview mirror and then  
adjusted it slightly.

"Exactly."

The rest of the ride back to the hotel was almost comfortable, despite the sadness that lingered  
between them. Angel had lost too many people -- even just since he'd come to L.A. -- for one more  
loss to break him. Fred's death was painful, and he knew from previous experience that it would hurt  
for a long time, but eventually... it would get better. It wouldn't go away, but it would get better.

They went through the front doors of the Hyperion and immediately a familiar scent washed over Angel.  
He froze, only dimly aware of Wes bumping into his back.

"Angel? What -- "

"Shh," Angel said, motioning with his hand. "He's here."

"Who?" Wesley whispered.

Connor stepped around the corner. "Hi, Dad."

Angel moved to the side half a foot or so, keeping himself between Connor and Wes, just in case. "What  
are you doing here?"

"I needed to see you. Talk to you." Connor's hair was longer than he remembered it, but neater at the  
same time. He couldn't remember what Connor had looked like the night before.

"Okay." Angel glanced back over his shoulder at Wes, hoping that it'd be clear that he wanted Wes to be  
cautious. He started down the steps, watching Connor the whole time. "I'm... surprised," he told his  
son. "To see you here. Especially after the whole, you know... hating me thing."

Connor's lip was arched in a subtle sneer, but he looked uncertain. More like that was the face he was  
used to wearing than the one that reflected what he really felt. "Yeah. Well... I..." His shoulders slumped  
suddenly, turning him into a boy and making Angel's heart ache for him.

"Come and sit down," he suggested, pointing to the couch and stepping in that direction himself, still  
making sure that he was in front of Wes.

"I don't want to sit down," Connor said, but came a couple of tentative steps closer anyway.

"Are you all right?" Wesley asked, his voice impossibly gentle, impossibly perfect.

Connor gave a curt nod of his head. "I -- Justine was mad at me."

Wes paused briefly, but when he spoke again he sounded just as calm as he had before. "Why?'

"Because I wanted to come back." Connor still looked sullen. "Because I needed to find out..."

Angel forced himself to take a step backward, giving Connor more space if he needed it. "Needed to  
find out what?"

"About you," Connor said. "About... whether it's true. That you're good."

"Might have been nice if you'd decided to find out *before* you sent me to the bottom of the ocean," Angel  
said, unable to stop the bitterness from creeping into his voice. He felt Wes step closer, felt Wes' hand on  
his arm.

"Are you hungry?" Wes asked Connor. "I could get you something."

A little light came on in Connor's eyes, and Angel couldn't quite suppress a smile at the thought that his  
boy was all boy. "I'm always hungry," Connor said.

"I could order something," Wes said, moving toward the desk. "Pizza? Sandwiches?"

"I like pizza," Connor said. "With meat."

"All right." Wes offered Angel a little smile. "I'll just be over here then. You two should talk."

Angel didn't know if he wanted Wes to go or stay -- God knew it was going to be hard enough either  
way. "So. Um... Justine was mad?"

"Yeah." Connor stayed where he was, watching as Angel went over to the couch and sat down on the  
end, as far away from Connor as he could in case the boy wanted to come over and sit down too. "She  
didn't want me to come back."

"But you did."

"She's stubborn. She doesn't like to admit that she might be wrong about some things." Connor looked  
down at the floor. "She thinks all vampires are the same."

Angel sat very still. He could hear Wes talking on the phone, very softly. "What do you think?"

"Maybe... maybe you're different. Maybe not. That's why... I need to find out."

"You want me to prove it to you." Angel sounded as frustrated as he felt. "I can't do that."

"Because you really *are* evil."

"No. Because that's not the kind of thing you can prove." He hesitated, then said, "I didn't kill Holtz."

"I know."

That surprised Angel. "How?"

"Justine." Connor's voice was mild. "She has dreams sometimes. She talks in her sleep."

Angel wondered what Connor had overheard, but he waited to see if there was more.

"He told her to do it. I know that." There was a pause. "I wanted to be mad at her, but I couldn't be." Connor  
rocked his weight back onto one heel and crossed his arms.

"So... what now?" Angel was aware of Wesley standing over behind the counter, finished with his phone  
call but not stepping back into the conversation.

Connor shrugged. "I want to watch you."

Angel frowned and stood up, since apparently Connor wasn't going to come over and sit down. "I'm not  
here for your entertainment. I don't know if I want you 'watching me.'" He wasn't even sure if this was  
true, but he wanted to make a point. Some kind of point, anyway.

"That's not what I meant," Connor said defensively, and started to turn away. "Forget it."

Crossing the space between them before he even realized he was going to move, Angel grabbed  
onto Connor's arm. "No." The expression on Connor's face made him release the boy just as quickly.  
"No. I don't want to forget it. I don't want you to take off before we can finish a conversation."

"Why do you even want me here?"

"What?"

"Why don't you want me to go?" Connor asked, staying where he was, but watching Angel  
carefully, like he thought Angel might grab him again.

Angel kept still. "Because you're my son."

"But after what I did..." Connor muttered something under his breath, the words running together so  
quickly that Angel couldn't figure out what he'd heard.

"What?"

"You should hate me," Connor repeated, more audibly this time. "Why don't you hate me?"

"Look, you were... confused." Angel struggled to explain. "I mean hey, not saying I had a good time  
under the ocean for three months while everyone else enjoyed their summer vacation, but... things  
were confusing. I get that."

"What happened?" Connor asked. "How did you -- ?"

Okay, Angel really would have preferred not to go there, but at this point he'd do almost anything to  
continue the conversation. He glanced over at Wes, feeling like he needed permission or something  
to tell the story, and Wesley nodded at him. "Wesley did a spell. Well, two. One to find me, and the other  
one to get me out."

Connor's eyes flickered over to Wes. "Do you do that a lot?"

Wesley came around to the other side of the counter and then leaned back against it. "Magic? No.  
Actually, I haven't a real talent for it. But under the circumstances there weren't a lot of other options  
open to us."

"Where is everyone?" Connor looked around the lobby.

"Fred... was killed. By vampires. Gunn's gone to take her back to her family." The hint of tension in Wes'  
voice wasn't subtle, and Angel figured Connor could hear it as well as he could.

Connor blinked and glanced down at the floor. "I'm sorry," he said, to both of them.

"Thank you," Wesley said formally.

"What about Cordelia?"

Angel figured he'd better field that one himself. Actually, might have been better if he'd fielded the  
other question too, since god knew Wes was still blaming himself for what had happened with Fred.  
"She's gone," he said shortly. "Mystical thing. She's okay, she's just... not here anymore."

"I thought it seemed quiet. I didn't remember it being like this." Connor seemed a little bit more  
relaxed now, even though the wary look never completely left his eyes.

The silence stretched out. "Yes, well..." Wesley said. "A lot of things have changed."

That sounded like a challenge to Angel, so he made a little gesture at Wes, a 'come here' that wasn't  
quite a request. Wesley looked at him steadily for a few seconds and then came, stopping next to Angel.  
"Connor, do you... I mean... you're not a kid anymore. You know about... you know."

"No, what are you talking about?" Confused joined sullen on Connor's face, making him look even younger  
than he already did, and making Angel wish he hadn't started this part of the conversation. Well, *tried* to  
start it. Luckily, Connor seemed to catch on. "Oh. You mean sex."

"Um... yeah."

Connor lifted his eyebrows. "You know I've been living with Justine."

Angel scratched his head. "Oh. Yeah. I guess she probably answered any questions you might have had..."

"She showed me."

"She -- *what?!*"

Connor's voice was mild, as if he honestly had no idea that this might be an issue. "You know -- about  
sex. How to do it."

Angel figured that between him and Wesley there was already plenty of tension in the room for all of  
them. "Justine. Showed you."

"Yeah. That thing with..." Connor seemed to realize now that what he was sharing wasn't exactly being  
welcomed with open arms. "You know, between her legs. With my..." He made a gesture at his own  
crotch. "And my tongue."

Wes seemed just as stunned by these revelations as Angel was, but he recovered more quickly. "Well, that's..."

Or maybe not.

"She said it was okay," Connor explained. "That she was taking medicine. So she wouldn't have a baby."

And thank god for that, Angel thought. "Good. That's... good."

"I liked it," Connor said. "It felt nice."

Angel resisted the urge to cover his face with his hands. "Yeah, well, it's supposed to. So anyway,  
um..." He glanced at Wes again. "You know that it's not always a guy and a girl, right?"

"With sex?" A tiny grin flittered at the corner of Connor's mouth. "Sure. When me and my -- um. Holtz -- "

"Don't," Wes interrupted him, his voice rough with a horror that echoed what Angel was feeling.  
"I don't..." He shook his head, moving over and sitting down on the edge of the couch like the world had  
just dropped out from underneath him. He looked like he was going to be sick.

Connor continued with his explanation, tentatively. "I used to watch tv, at the hotel. After we came  
back from Quortoth. There were movies of people doing sex -- all kinds of people."

Angel and Wesley exchanged looks of pure relief. The thought that Wes had given Connor to a man  
who might have -- but he hadn't. Still shaken, Angel managed to nod. "Yeah. Well, see... me and  
Wesley... we're together. Like that."

"Okay." Connor sounded like he was waiting for more, but when it wasn't forthcoming, he  
offered, "Holtz didn't like me watching that stuff. Any of it, I mean, not just the men  
together... he said he knew values had changed. But anyway, I know about sex. Don't worry, you don't have  
to explain it."

"I wouldn't have minded," Ange lied. "But... yeah. So. I just wanted you to know that. About me and  
Wesley."

Connor brushed his hair back out of his eyes impatiently. "Do you live here now?" he asked Wesley.

Wes blinked. "Er... no," he said. "I have my own apartment. All of my things -- well, most of them -- are  
there."

Speaking of which, Angel thought out loud, "What about you?"

"What about me?" Connor asked.

"Do you, um, need somewhere to stay? Because, you know... hotel. Lots of rooms, if you wanted one."  
Angel shuffled his feet slightly and jammed his hands into his pockets, looking down at his shoes.

There was an uncomfortable silence as Connor seemed to think about this, but then the boy said, "I  
don't want you telling me what to do." It was said matter-of-factly, without malice.

Angel held up both hands. "Hey, no. You want a room, it's yours. What you want to do with it, that's  
your business." He thought about that for a minute. "Well, as long as you aren't doing drugs."

Connor snorted, then looked at Wesley with obvious hesitation. "It's okay with you?"

Wes seemed startled by the question. "If you're both comfortable with it, that's what matters."

"No," Angel protested, keeping his voice calm. "Your opinion counts too."

"It's fine," Wes said, with a brief shake of his head that Angel thought meant 'We'll talk about it later.'

Angel filed it away to make sure they *would* talk about it later, and let it drop for the time being.  
Besides, there was another issue on his mind. "So is Justine going to show up here looking for you?" He  
figured that was the last thing any of them needed, but Wes especially.

"I don't think so. She... doesn't like you very much." Another little twitch of Connor's lips, like he was  
trying not to smile.

"You think?" Angel couldn't prevent his own grin, not completely. He wasn't sure he could have  
explained how it was possible that he was standing here smiling at the kid who'd sent him to the  
bottom of the ocean for a couple of months, but... it didn't feel bad.

There was a knock and a shadow at the door. "That would be the pizza," Wes said, and went to  
retrieve it.

He came back, cardboard box balanced on one palm as he used his other hand to stuff his wallet back  
into his pocket.

"I can take it," Connor said, stepping forward to take the box. Wes went into the office and got some  
paper plates and napkins.

Angel watched Connor and Wesley share the pizza while they all continued to talk, the mood  
between the three of them lightening noticeably as time went on. He felt like something that had been  
obscuring his vision had been suddenly lifted -- he wasn't sure when it had happened exactly, but  
things were clearer now. Brighter. Like he was finally able to see good stuff *as* good.

Wes was looking at him questioningly, and he realized that he'd been asked a question. "Sorry. What?"

"Are you all right?"

Angel grinned. "Yeah. I'm good."

 

* * * * *

 

Once Connor was settled into his new room -- he'd only had one bag with some clothes -- Angel took Wes  
back to his suite.

"You okay with this?" he asked.

"With what?" Wes had that look on his face that said he knew exactly what Angel was talking about, but  
was hoping he could get away with avoiding the subject.

"With Connor staying here."

Wes nodded, adjusting his glasses. "Yes, of course. It's your home, Angel -- it's your decision. I'm  
perfectly comfortable with that."

Angel watched Wes' face carefully. "Liar."

Wes looked startled, and then grinned slightly. "I *am* comfortable with it being your decision," he protested.

"But not with him staying here."

"I *would* be a liar if I told you that I was completely at ease with it," Wes admitted. "But that's  
something that can only get better with time, I'd imagine. I mean... seeing him here, as an adult --  
or near enough -- when..."

Angel figured he could see where that train of thought was leading. "Hey," he said, moving over to  
Wes and pulling him into an embrace. "Enough with the brooding, okay? Thought that was supposed  
to be *my* specialty."

"Of course. What was I thinking?" There was something hesitant in Wes' eyes, but he kissed Angel  
and then tightened his arms around him. "I'm very glad for your sake that he's come back," Wes said  
softly. "Are you... that is, do you...?"

"What?"

"Do you trust him?"

It was a fair enough question, considering. Angel kissed Wesley before answering. "Yeah," he  
said, the words taking a while to make it from his brain to his lips. "Yeah, I do. I mean, he's been  
through a lot. To come back here after everything that's happened, that took guts."

The look in Wesley's eyes was one of confusion. "You're proud of him."

"Well... yeah." Angel felt confused too.

"Despite what he did to you, you've actually forgiven him, haven't you?" Wesley's brow above his  
glasses was slightly wrinkled.

"Forgiven, yeah. Not forgotten," Angel said, as he reached to smooth the lines from Wes' forehead  
with gentle fingers. "But... he's my kid."

"If only it were that simple." Wes' back muscles were tense under Angel's arm.

Angel could read the subtext there loud and clear. Not knowing what else to do, he shrugged a  
little bit. "Maybe it's not always. Doesn't mean it's the kid's fault though."

"No, of course not."

"Don't do that," Angel protested.

"Do what?"

"Dismiss what I'm telling you when you *know* that if it was anyone else, you'd be saying the  
same thing. How come you're so reasonable when it comes to everyone but yourself?" He was  
nervous -- he knew he was pushing Wes, and after their earlier... well, he didn't want to call it a  
fight, but... "Look," he said, gently, cupping Wes' face in his hand and feeling a warmth in his chest  
that made him want to wrap Wes up and never, even let anything hurt him again, "I know there  
are... issues. With your dad. But they aren't, you know... a reflection of *you.*"

"There are times when it's difficult to convince myself of that," Wesley admitted quietly, his eyes  
searching Angel's like there might be something there that would make a difference for him.

"I know," Angel said. "But you know what? You're gonna be stuck with me for a long, long time, so  
I'll just have to do the convincing for you." The look on Wes' face would have been enough to make  
the words worth saying even if it'd been hard. Which it hadn't.

Wes kissed him, both his hands sliding down to Angel's ass and pulling him closer, rubbing  
against him. "There's no possible way that *I* deserve this," Wes murmured, echoing back to  
their earlier conversation.

"There's every possible way," Angel corrected him, letting his lips trail down over Wes' throat,  
loving the way that Wesley's pulse speeded up with desire but not the faintest hint of fear. "Love you," he  
said, and licked the scar tissue on Wes' neck.

He felt a full-body shiver go through Wes, heard the little gasp that escaped him. "Angel."

"Wesley," he said, and licked again.

"God, love... more. Please."

The words did as much for Angel as the taste of Wes' skin, but he didn't want to get in over his head,  
not when he could smell the blood flowing just under the surface. He moved his mouth to catch  
Wesley's instead, kissing him thoroughly until Wes was hard against his thigh.

"You don't..." Wesley started, then paused. "Are you sure this is a good idea, what with...?"

"He already knows," Angel pointed out.

Wes looked like he wanted to say something else, but he shook his head. "You're right." He kissed  
Angel, his hot tongue pushing its way into Angel's mouth, and then asked, huskily, "Take me to bed?"

"You got it."

 

* * * * *

 

Later, Angel woke up slowly, the darkness of sleep fading away so gradually that he wasn't sure  
when it happened. The lamp on the bedside table was turned on, and Wes was sitting up next to him,  
pillows crushed between the headboard and the small of his back, a book balanced in his lap as he  
scribbled some notes on a scrap of paper.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?" Angel asked groggily. He turned his head to check -- the clock read 4 a.m..

Wes looked at him guiltily. "I'm sorry -- I didn't think I'd wake you."

"S'okay." Angel rolled onto his side, his weight on one elbow. "What are you doing?"

Tucking the piece of paper between the pages of the book, Wes closed it and set it down on the  
table along with the pen. "Nothing."

"You're sitting up at four in the morning doing nothing?"

"Just some research," Wes said, not meeting Angel's eyes. "I couldn't sleep."

Angel reached to draw Wesley into his arms, nuzzling his jaw where stubble made the skin  
rough. "What's up?"

Wes sighed, the sound going right into Angel's gut and making it ache. "I need to try something  
else," he admitted, after a brief silence.

"With what?"

"The visions," Wes explained. "It's unacceptable to leave them as they are if this is the result --  
if I'm unable to read them with any degree of certainty, then doing the spell to alter them was a  
serious error in judgement. I'll have to undo it."

"No," Angel said, sitting up. "No way."

"There's no other alternative," Wes said. "I may be able to find something else that will curtail  
the damage, at least, but in the meantime -- "

"*No.* Jesus, Wes -- don't you remember what they were doing to Cordy? There's no *way* you're  
going back to that."

"Angel, there's no other option. I -- "

"Okay, I'm thinking you're not hearing me when I say *no.*" Angel repeated. "No, definitely not,  
no way, no how, no --"

"*Angel.* I understand your concerns, really I do. But tampering with the visions the way I  
did was... irresponsible. I *need* to be able to see whatever it is the Powers That Be are  
trying to show me -- that's the whole point."

"The point," Angel said angrily, "is for you to be *alive* to see the visions. That's all that matters.  
You've had what, two visions since you did the spell? Give it some time. You can't seriously think  
that there's something wrong with the way you're seeing them based on *two* visions."

Wesley nodded at him, one hand coming out to stroke his cheek so gently that Angel had to close  
his eyes. "Maybe you're right. I may be jumping the gun a bit. I'm just... well, I suppose I'm afraid of  
what might happen if I have another vision and I'm unable to see enough to make sense of it."

With his eyes still closed, Angel leaned down and kissed Wes. "Don't worry. We'll figure it out. But  
we're not gonna undo the spell, not if it's what keeps your brain from getting all screwed up.  
We'll find another way."

Angel opened his eyes, and could tell from Wesley's expression that he wasn't totally buying it.

"We'll see," Wes said neutrally.

"What do I have to do to convince you?" Angel asked, pressing Wes down into the mattress with the  
weight of his body. "Because just say the word, and it's yours. I'd do anything for you. You know that, right?"

Wes' hands clutched at his ass, hips rocking into Angel's. "I would as well. Do anything for you, I  
mean." He gasped as Angel's tongue traced along his throat and down to one taut nipple. "Angel..."

He could hear the unspoken request in Wes' voice, read it in the eager push of Wesley's hips.  
Angel scraped his teeth over Wes' nipple, earning another gasp, and then slid lower and took  
Wes' dick into his mouth.

It tasted like life, like Wes, and if Angel couldn't -- wouldn't let himself -- have Wes' blood, he'd have  
his cock instead. Wesley moaned, shifted his position, one hand on Angel's shoulder, encouraging  
him. Not that Angel needed any encouragement. He could do this all night -- licking Wes, sucking  
him avidly, tongue circling, tasting every nuance of skin and fluid. "Angel, *please.*"

Angel released Wes and moved down to mouth his balls instead, stroking with his hand now,  
letting his fingers flick up and over the head of the hard warm cock in his fist.

Wes' breathing was quicker now. Angel could feel Wes' heartbeat against his knuckles, could smell  
the unbearably distinct thread of arousal winding itself around him like something delicate and  
powerful at the same time. It made his face itch to change, made his teeth ache, made him want to  
taste Wesley's blood.

He was used to denying himself. He moved his tongue back to the head of Wes' cock instead,  
licking it, while his hand speeded up, stroking Wes even faster. It was less than thirty seconds  
before Wes cried out, shuddering as he came, thigh muscles under Angel's arm trembling with  
the force of it. Angel swallowed, tasting the faint slick bitterness of Wes' come, and then licked him  
clean, slowly. He listened to Wes as his breathing gradually slowed, as his heartbeat went from  
pounding to normal beating, and then eventually to the slower pulse of near-sleep.

Angel moved up, nuzzled Wesley's throat where the pulse was anything but uncomplicated.  
"Love you," he whispered, and Wes murmured something and turned slightly, settling himself  
into sleep and Angel's arms in one easy movement.

He lay there for another fifteen minutes, willing himself to relax, but he couldn't get there.

Slowly, trying not to wake Wesley, Angel eased out of bed and padded into the kitchen. Game  
face slipped on powerfully, like the flick of a switch, and he drank three mugs of cow's blood  
in an attempt to drive back the desire to feed from Wes. He'd keep control because he had to.  
Because no other alternative was acceptable. It had nothing to do with the happiness thing --  
fuck, most of the time he didn't even know how he'd been able to achieve perfect happiness with  
Buffy, given all the other things that had been hanging over his head. Given all the things that  
were always hanging over his head -- murder, rape, torture. He didn't deserve happiness,  
even if he didn't have to be careful of it.

He turned slightly, leaning against the countertop, and watched Wesley sleeping.

*Wes* deserved happiness. There were things people wanted, and Angel... wasn't people.  
Couldn't understand, maybe.

Wes stirred and murmured in his sleep, then his eyes opened. "Angel?" His voice was quiet,  
half-asleep. It sounded like he was looking for reassurance.

Angel wiped his mouth and went back to the edge of the bed. "Yeah, right here." He sat, ran  
his arm down Wes' shoulder to his waist, unable to prevent himself from enjoying the way Wes  
curled into his touch like a cat might. "Go back to sleep."

"Not without you," Wes said. "Come to bed, love."

The word settled into Angel's stomach, warm and comforting.

It made him feel alive.

Angel slid under the covers and pulled Wes to him, and the other man sighed contentedly and  
snuggled in closer, one arm tightening briefly around Angel's waist before it relaxed again into  
sleep.

The warmth gradually lulled Angel to sleep too.

His last conscious thought was that if Wes loved him, he had to be doing something right.

 

 


End file.
